


If There's a Place I Could Be

by shnuffeluv



Series: Danger Gays: The True Lives of the Fabulous Picanis [1]
Category: Cartoon Therapy (Web Series), Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Attacks, Childhood Trauma, Cover Art, Dysfunctional Family, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Homophobia, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Meeting the Parents, Miscommunication, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Stalking, Suicidal Thoughts, Tags May Change, Therapy, Work In Progress, and they were ROOMMATES
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2020-09-24 11:46:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 82
Words: 181,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20357956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shnuffeluv/pseuds/shnuffeluv
Summary: Remy Picani was not always the nicest person in the world. He had too many problems with fake friends, betrayals, and family drama to trust just anyone who came up to him asking to get to know him. Throw on top the fact that he really didn't want to be going to college, and he was an underpaid and overstressed barista, well, he was a recipe for disaster.Emile Thomas was not always the smartest person in the world. He had too many ideas about how the world should work, how people generally acted, and how to help anyone who needed it to just turn away when someone was hurting, even if he knew it might be a bad idea to reach out. Throw on top the fact that he was studying to be a therapist, and he was an undeterred and overfriendly optimist, well, he was a recipe for disaster.When the ticking time bomb of trauma meets the overeager emotional medic, things get off to a rocky start. But despite it all, it's the start of something beautiful.Title taken from "The Only Hope for Me is You" - My Chemical Romance





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Quick memo: while this is listed as the first story in the series it's in, it is the second one being written, and the second story in the series is already completed and completely posted, and while it's not necessary to read that in order to read this, it might help and it would be nice to hear from people. :D So...feel free to read that, first, or not. I hope you enjoy this ride regardless!

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/184882166@N03/48866866287/in/dateposted-public/)

####  **July 3rd, 1985**

Remy sat in his closet, hands pressed against his ears in a futile attempt to block out the noise. Tears streamed down his face as he could hear his parents’ continued argument. His mother was acting out again, because of course she was, and his dad was trying to deescalate the situation, which only ever wound up Mom more. The screaming started up, and Remy flinched, desperate for the continued argument to stop, just for a second, just so that he could feel safe enough leaving his closet to go to the bathroom.

He knew, though, that he was going to have to wait for a while to get anything he wanted, let alone that.

####  **September 8th, 2000**

Remy looked around the campus he was on with a sigh. He really didn’t know why he was doing this. College just seemed like one of those things you did just because; it wasn’t like he was going to get a job just because he had a degree. But here he was, at his parents’ insistence.

He was sipping his coffee on a park bench, watching the leaves on the trees. He had some time before his next class, and it wasn’t like he had anything better to do. “Pretty, isn’t it?” a man asked from behind him.

Turning, Remy found a man with a curly mop of red hair and bright green eyes. “Yeah, I suppose,” he said, looking back at the leaves.

The man sat down next to him with a smile. “My name’s Emile,” he said.

Remy offered his hand. “Remy.”

“Nice to meet you, Remy,” Emile said. “Mind me asking why you look so down in the dumps?”

Remy shook his head at Emile and said, “It’s nothing important.”

“It’s affecting you, so obviously it has to be important,” Emile said with a frown. “Everyone’s feelings are important, no matter what they are.”

Remy inwardly sighed and outwardly bristled. This guy was clearly intent on making friends, something that Remy didn’t want, or need. “Please. That’s the sort of thing only overly-sensitive people think.  _ Normal _ people don’t need to talk out their feelings every second of the day.”

Emile blinked. “I was just trying to strike up a conversation,” he said, and his eyes looked hurt.

“Have you considered that not everyone here wants to be your friend?” Remy asked, sipping his coffee.

“Well, not everyone  _ has _ to be my friend, but you’ve hung on the outskirts everywhere I’ve seen you during orientation,” Emile said. “I figured you might want to know one or two people here, just to have a familiar face around campus.”

“Touching, but I’ll be fine,” Remy grumbled. “I don’t need any friends.”

“I don’t believe you,” Emile said simply.

Remy jumped like he may has well have been stabbed. He snarled at Emile. “You don’t know  _ anything _ about me! Why would you even  _ suggest _ that you know my social habits better than I do?!”

Emile had his hands held up in surrender, his eyes wide. Remy sighed. This kid clearly had lived a very sheltered life. Someone had to toughen him up so he didn’t break the hard way the second someone pushed back against him. And Remy didn’t know anyone else on this campus who might be able to teach the kid anything about life, so it looked like if he wanted Emile to  _ not _ get destroyed on campus, he would have to be the one to toughen him up, bit by bit. “I’m sorry,” Remy said. “I don’t...have good experiences with people trying to be my friends in the past. No one stuck around longer than it took for them to get blackmail material on me.”

“That’s terrible,” Emile gasped.

“That’s life,” Remy said, voice dull and hollow. “If you want to be my friend, I guess you can try. Just don’t be surprised if I don’t follow you when you jump off a bridge.”

Emile sat there in stunned silence for a second, before he whimpered out, “You never did answer my question.”

Remy ran a hand through his hair and took another sip of his coffee. “Why I’m upset? I don’t want to be here. College is just...extra school that you go in debt for. I don’t know what I want to do with my life; I’m taking business classes because I had a knack for math in high school, but so far the textbooks I’ve read haven’t taught me anything. I don’t have anyone on this campus that I know, and you’re the only person who’s even bothered to stick around me for longer than twenty seconds. No friends, no learning, and thousands of dollars of debt. That’s why I’m upset.”

Emile shrugged. “Well, why are you upset about having no friends if you don’t want any friends?”

“What?” Remy asked, glancing over.

“Why are you upset about having no friends if you don’t want any friends?” Emile repeated. “That would seem like a blessing, wouldn’t it? Not having to deal with people faking being your friends after high school?”

Remy shrugged. “I appreciate company. Not friendships, but I don’t like being stuck with my thoughts all the time.”

“Well, there are a couple people who I know who are throwing parties later, if you ever want to...you know...party? Have something to do outside study and not make friends?” Emile offered.

Remy glared at Emile. “And now you’re mocking me?”

“What? No!” Emile said. “You said you didn’t want to make friends? So I just...aw, shoot, it wasn’t supposed to come out that way!”

Remy scoffed. “Emile, you clearly don’t have the right social skills to be compatible friends with me. I suggest finding someone else to hang around with, because I’m certainly not your ‘pal.’”

“Actually, provided you don’t mind, I’d like to stay right here, talking to you, thanks,” Emile said, pulling out a book from his backpack and settling into the bench with a sigh. “We don’t have to be friends, but I’d still like to be a familiar face to you.”

Remy blinked. This kid...wasn’t backing down? Remy assumed he’d scurry away and regroup and Remy would have some time to figure out how to toughen Emile up, provided he came back. But he was...staying? Even after Remy had snarled at him? “Why?” Remy asked, before he could stop himself.

Emile looked up from his book, briefly shocked, before he smiled. It was soft, and kind, and nothing like Remy had ever seen directed at him before. “Because everyone deserves to be comfortable, and familiar faces tend to make people relax a little more.”

Remy frowned. “I don’t...I don’t understand you.”

“That’s okay,” Emile said, turning back to his book. “Learning to understand other people is half the fun of making friends.”

“But...I  _ don’t _ want to make friends,” Remy said.

“Okay,” Emile said. “But would you want to make  _ a _ friend?”

Remy scoffed. “Changing the noun in question from plural to singular does not change my sentiment.”

“It was worth a shot,” Emile said, smiling into his book. “I figured I may as well try. And it didn’t work, but now I know where you stand.”

Remy shook his head. “An optimist,” he muttered. “Of  _ course _ you’re an optimist.”

“Why would that be a bad thing?” Emile asked.

“Because there’s not a silver lining to any and every situation,” Remy said, wrinkling his nose. “And I fear for the sanity of anyone who believes otherwise, because clearly, their head must not be on straight.”

“What situations aren’t there silver linings in?” Emile asked. “Every time something bad happens, it leads to something else in someone’s life, and sooner or later that ‘something else’ is something  _ good. _ Something that you wouldn’t have gotten without the bad.”

“You don’t know that for a fact,” Remy warned. “You could have even gotten to the good thing  _ faster _ without the bad.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Emile said. “After all, you might never have met me or anyone else on this campus if you didn’t come to college.”

Remy barked a laugh. “That full of yourself, are you?” he asked Emile.

“Well, I’m not saying I’m the epitome of good things, but a friend is always a good thing in my book. Or even just a familiar face. I’ll be around, you know. And I’m always up to help if you need a hand,” Emile offered.

This kid was  _ sickeningly _ sweet, and Remy didn’t know how he had tolerated that attitude for this long. “Whatever,” Remy brushed off. “I’m fine on my own. Be a familiar face if you must, but we are  _ not _ friends.”

“If you say so, Remy,” Emile said.

“I  _ do _ say so,  _ Emile,” _ Remy said, voice dripping venom on Emile’s name. “I need to head to my next class soon.”

“If you have a phone, we can exchange numbers?” Emile asked hopefully.

Remy arched an eyebrow. “That desperate to pester me, huh?” he asked with a sigh. “Yeah, I have a phone. Don’t really feel inclined to give you the number, though.”

“Oh,” Emile deflated, and Remy didn’t expect to feel  _ bad _ for making a jab at the kid, but he did.

He groaned. “You’re making this hard,” he griped.

“What, being alone?” Emile asked.

“Not caring about anything here,” Remy grumbled. “Granted, the caring is in the sense that I  _ hate _ this place and most if not all the people in it, but I was hoping I could just...apathetically make my way into getting a degree and moving on from this hovel.”

“You worry me,” Emile said.

“Do I?” Remy asked. “How so?”

“Well, I know we’ve only known each other for like, ten minutes, but I’m studying psychology so that I can become a therapist and—”

“Hold up, hold up, hold up,” Remy said. “Hold. Up. You’re studying to become a  _ shrink?” _

“Uh. Yes?” Emile said, tilting his head to the side. “Is that a problem?”

“It means we  _ definitely _ can’t be friends. I don’t need you shrinking my head every chance you get to try and get me to reveal my ‘troubled past’ or find out that I’m secretly in love with my mother, or whatever. No, thank you. I hate shrinks and I  _ loathe _ therapists.” Remy took another sip of his coffee, but it tasted bitter on his tongue.

“Why?” Emile asked. “They’re incredibly helpful.”

“I don’t need ‘em,” Remy scoffed. “Everyone I’ve ever met who’s talked to me for a while is like, ‘Oh, you should go see a therapist!’ And that has been the end of many a small friendship. I don’t need a therapist. Never have, never will. Just because I was the baby in the line of three, doesn’t mean I was neglected or some crap.”

“Wow,” Emile said. “Okay. There’s a lot to unpack there, for sure. But, uh, if you don’t want me to...uh...listen, that’s okay. I wouldn’t ‘shrink your head’ if I were your friend, though. Number one thing I’ve learned from talking to therapists when I ask them about what the job is like is that you can’t be a therapist to your friends. You’re too attached to the situation to make an objective observation and help the person see things from another perspective. You’re not in trouble when it comes to that, if you want me to be more than a familiar face.”

“Well, I don’t even want you to be a familiar face, you’re the one who keeps insisting on talking to me,” Remy griped. “No one ever seems to get that I just want to be left alone!”

“Well, I know extroverts don’t understand that,” Emile said. “I’m an...eccentric introvert, I guess? So I understand wanting alone time, but you’ve been alone for at least a week and a half. That’s...not necessarily healthy.”

Remy put down his coffee and groaned into his hands. “Oh. Come on. You care. Too much. You don’t even know me!” he exclaimed, turning to growl at Emile directly. “Why would you even try to get to know someone who is very obviously trying to push you away?!”

“I like the challenge, and I worry about what being isolated does to a person,” Emile responded, without missing a beat or flinching. “If you want to be left alone right now, just say so, and I’ll leave you to get to your next class or wherever you need to go. But know that when I see you again and it’s clear that you’re just hanging out and not doing anything important, I’ll come back to talk to you. Because you’re definitely on my ‘potential friends’ list now, if for no other reason than spite.”

Remy snorted at that. “Yeah, whatever. You keep telling yourself that you’re making a difference, talking to me. If it makes you sleep easier, you can call us friends. But I don’t consider you anything more than the guy who won’t shut up about friendship and being alone.”

“I can live with that,” Emile chirped, standing up. “I really have to get to  _ my _ next class, but it was nice to meet you, Remy! I hope that maybe I could see you in the student lounge sometime, or maybe on the quad? I’d love to continue our discussion about whether or not friends are beneficial!”

And without another word, Emile left, humming something to himself as Remy watched on. He wasn’t even sure if he wanted to toughen up Emile. He was entirely too cheery for Remy’s tastes, and he couldn’t imagine what Emile’s poor roommate must deal with. He just hoped that the guy was more patient than Remy was, because otherwise they might have a homicide on the campus.


	2. Chapter 2

####  **July 7th, 2000**

Emile was talking to some of his high school friends as they hung out by the pool, just enjoying their last free summer before college started. “Any plans when you go to college, Faith?” Emile asked.

“I don’t know,” Faith shrugged. “Finding a boy might be nice, but it’s not at the top of my list. You?”

“Finding a boy  _ would _ be nice,” Emile agreed. “But I’m not looking for a Mister degree, either.”

Faith laughed and Peter shook his head. “You’re gonna get into some chaos, Emile, I just know it,” he said. “You’re that kind of guy. Not a bad thing, just...a thing.”

“Hey, I know you guys think I’m crazy, but I  _ still _ say that chaos finds me, not the other way around,” Emile defended.

Faith shook her head. “You seek out people to be your friend, and  _ they _ bring chaos with them. If anything, it’s a combination.”

“All right, you’ve got me there,” Emile conceded.

####  **September 10th, 2000**

It was two days before Emile saw Remy again, and when he did, it was when he was with his friend Clara. “Remy!” he exclaimed, walking over. “Good to see you again!”

“Emile!” Clara yelped, running after him. “Don’t bug him! He’s in my business class, he’s mean and a huge stick in the mud!”

“Come on, Clara, that’s my potential friend you’re trash talking!” Emile said, giving Clara a  _ look _ that roughly equated to  _ play nice. _ Except there was no  _ please _ or any other option, really. “How have you been doing, Remy?”

Remy looked up and rolled his eyes. “Oh, joy. It’s  _ you _ again.”

“Well, yeah, I told you I’d talk to you again if I saw you!” Emile said, swaying from side to side, and grinning. He was happy he had accidentally run into Remy again. He was worried he might have to fabricate an excuse to get to Remy again. And he didn’t want their relationship to be built on lies, not ever but definitely not in the beginning, where all the important stuff came around.

“Emile, he clearly doesn’t want to talk to us, we should just go—”

“Don’t be silly, Clara!” Emile exclaimed. “He doesn’t have any friends! Someone has to break the ice!”

Clara hesitated. “Well, maybe you can break the ice with him, but I’m not in the mood to be insulted again, so I’ll go hang with our other friends, if you don’t mind.”

Emile waved her off. “Yeah, sure. I’ll see you at lunch.”

As she walked away, Remy sighed. “You’re pushing her away,” he warned. “If she thinks you favor me over her she won’t want to be your friend anymore.”

“Well, I don’t typically favor any one friend over the others I have, so we’re all good!” Emile said, sitting down in a chair next to Remy’s.

“I said ‘she thinks,’” Remy pointed out. “Not what you  _ actually _ do.”

“You’re really determined to rub me the wrong way, aren't you?” Emile asked with a little laugh. “I hate to break it to you, but that’s pretty hard for anyone to do.”

“You’re an only child, aren’t you?” Remy asked. “Otherwise everything I’m saying would get under your skin a little more. Because this is all stuff my older siblings would point out to me.”

“They don’t sound very nice,” Emile said with a frown.

“Eh,” Remy said with a shrug, “They didn’t use so many words, and they were a little less blunt about it, but they always made good points in the end. Or, Vanessa did. She’s the one who told me my friends were only friends with me so they could get dirt on me or it was because of a dare.”

“That...that sounds horrible,” Emile said.

“You get used to it,” Remy shrugged. “My only  _ real _ friend when I was younger was my older brother Toby. Then he moved away to college, and...” Remy sighed. “I’m all that’s left.”

“I’m sorry,” Emile said softly. “It always hurts to lose a friend.”

“He doesn’t even write anymore,” Remy said, eyes distant. “He said he would and one day, he just...stopped.”

“Do you have any idea why?” Emile asked.

Remy shook himself with a jerk and sighed. “Yeah, but it’s private. It’s a family matter.”

“Okay,” Emile said. “But I’m always here if you want to talk.”

Remy gave Emile a half-hearted glare, before returning to the book that he had been reading.

“So you’re not from the area, are you?” Emile asked.

“What makes you say that?” Remy asked.

“Well, you’re hanging out on the campus on a Sunday. Most people who I know would not go to a college campus on a Sunday morning just for fun,” Emile said. “Which dorm do you stay in?”

Remy didn’t respond for a good minute or two. Then, he sighed, and muttered, “East Benz.”

“Really?!” Emile asked. “So do I! What floor?”

“Fourth,” Remy sighed.

“Oh, that explains it! I’m on the second,” Emile said. “Still! It would nice to visit your dorm room sometime, maybe? Or you could come to mine! We could hang out and stuff!”

Remy scoffed. “Why would I want that?”

Emile tried to not let that sting, but it was hard. It was clear that Remy had been through some rough things in his life, so it was a small wonder he was trying to distance himself from everyone and everything. But Emile knew that would destroy even the toughest of people, and he wanted to stop that spiral before it got too far. Remy certainly wasn’t making it easy to be around him, though. “You know what? You’re right. You wouldn’t want that, because you don’t want friends. Forget I asked,” Emile said, wilting in his seat.

Remy looked over at him and rolled his eyes, groaning. “Don’t look so put out about it, kid, I’m trying to ease you into the real world. The real world is full of bumps and sharp turns and things that will hurt you. You can’t always get what you want.”

“Yeah, but if you try sometimes, you get what you need,” Emile said, looking at Remy.

“You don’t need me,” Remy scoffed.

Emile shrugged. “How do I know that, if you won’t even let me get to know you?”

Remy looked Emile over, and Emile resisted the urge to squirm under the scrutiny. He wasn’t nervous because a cute boy was looking him over. Or, that wasn’t the only reason. He really wanted Remy to give Emile a shot. And if not squirming under his gaze was what it took to get Remy to listen to Emile, then Emile would make sure he didn’t move an inch. “You’re really not going to give up, are you?” Remy asked with a sigh.

“No,” Emile said, completely honest. “I want you to have someone you can go to on this campus, no matter who it is. Even if it winds up not being me, everyone deserves to have a shoulder to lean on.”

“Not everyone,” Remy sighed, closing his book. “What do you plan on doing to pass the time?”

“I was thinking we could walk around town, get to know where we’re living for most of the next four years a little better,” Emile offered.

“I have nothing better to do,” Remy sighed, packing up his book into his backpack next to his chair and slung it over his shoulder. “Do you have a car or should I take this back to my dorm?”

“I have a car!” Emile said. “So, does that mean you’re coming?”

Remy sighed. “Yes, Emile. I’ll join you on your walk around town center. But only if we don’t have to walk to the center of town, because that would take an hour.”

“No, we can just drive down there and window shop,” Emile said, standing up. “Come on, I’ll show you to my car.”

Remy was probably rolling his eyes at Emile’s enthusiasm, but Emile didn’t care. He was so excited to get Remy to join him that he was practically skipping on the way to the student parking lot close to the East Benz dorms. “Ease up on the enthusiasm,” Remy said once they were at Emile’s car. “I agreed to walk around town with you, not marry you.”

Emile shook his head fondly. “Look, I’m excited, and I get to be excited. If I choose to express that, then that’s  _ my _ choice.”

Remy blinked in surprise. “You really are a shrink,” he muttered. “That’s just  _ great.” _

“I know, right?!” Emile asked, getting in his car as Remy did. “I’ve wanted to be a therapist since I was twelve.”

“Do you even know what sarcasm is?” Remy asked.

“Oh, yeah,” Emile said, turning to Remy with a grin as he pulled out of the parking lot. “But I choose to ignore yours.”

Remy laughed in shock and Emile grinned wider. “That’s not nice!” Remy exclaimed.

“Since when do you care about nice?” Emile asked. He felt a little mean for asking it, but really, if Remy wanted to play hardball then two could play better than one. He just hoped that Remy might mellow out, because he doubted he could play hardball forever. But he really didn’t want to lose Remy as a friend, especially considering what he now knew about Remy’s views on friends.

Remy stared at him in shock, before he actually  _ smiled _ for the first time, and Emile very nearly crashed the car from staring. “Touché, kid. Touché.”

They made their way to town center quickly, and Emile parked the car at the edge of a parking lot by an abandoned building on Main Street. “Shame that no one’s using this building,” Emile sighed.

“I know,” Remy agreed. “It’s prime real estate, too. Like, Main Street? You could make a prime coffee shop or bookstore out of this place.”

“What would they call it, do you think?” Emile asked.

“Well, if it were some coffee shop, it’d probably be a dumb pun, like...I dunno... _ Sleep Easy.” _

“‘Sleep Easy’?” Emile asked.

“Like speakeasy, the places where you could get alcohol in the Prohibition era? You know. The coffee’s so good it should be illegal,” Remy laughed. “That kind of dumb pun.”

“Oh, but that’s not dumb, that’s really cute!” Emile exclaimed.

Remy snorted. “You’d be exactly the kind of customer that would lap that sort of thing up,” he said. “And no, that’s not a compliment.”

Emile frowned. “Remy, I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but...you’re kind of a mean person.”

“Just figuring that out now, are you?” Remy asked.

Emile started walking, and Remy followed him, which seemed like a victory, but Emile wasn’t so sure anymore. “So why are you hanging around me? If you’re a mean person and you don’t like me, why would you stick around? Why me?”

Remy leaned down and picked up a rock that was lying on the concrete, tossing it in his hand over and over. “Well, for one, you’re the only person who’s made an effort to be around me to the point where the annoyance at you being around is less than the annoyance at you making an effort to be friendly with me constantly brushing you off. For another, someone needs to toughen you up to the harsh reality that is...well, reality. And I don’t trust that job to anyone I don’t know. I don’t know anyone else on campus, so that falls on my shoulders. For a third, well...if eye candy wants to hang around me, I certainly won’t object to a pretty boy hanging around where I am,” he threw the rock at the concrete and the two of them watched it skip and skitter across the sidewalk in front of them.

“I-I’m sorry, did you just call me eye candy?” Emile sputtered, brain grinding to a halt.

“Yeah. I’m into men, virtually exclusively, I’ve found. If you have a problem with that, say something now rather than later and we can forget this whole friendship ever even started,” Remy said.

“No, no, that’s not it at all! I just...didn’t expect you to be gay. Heteronormativity at its finest,” Emile laughed.

Remy glanced at him. “You’re gay too?”

“Bisexual,” Emile corrected, “But yeah, under that umbrella.”

“Sweet,” Remy said, flashing another genuine smile.

Emile found himself blushing at Remy’s smiles, and he was inwardly a little worried. Even if Remy was gay, Emile wasn’t sure Remy was the type of guy he could be happy living with. Arrogant, stand-offish, degrading? No, he didn’t want to be with a man like that. Why did he have to be so cute?

They walked until they got to the stores, and both of them started talking back and forth. Remy was very closed off at first, but he started to open up the more they were out and about. When they finally had to get back to the car, it was because all the stores were closing and it was past dark. “This was fun,” Remy said as they walked back.

“I’m glad,” Emile said, smiling a little. “Would you be willing to do it again?”

“Yeah, probably. Not with like, a gigantic amount of people, but definitely with you,” Remy said.

“Does this make us friends?” Emile asked hopefully.

Remy paused in his walking and turned thoughtful. “Well, you’re more than a familiar face, now,” Remy said. “But I wouldn’t necessarily use the word ‘friend.’ Acquaintance, probably.”

“Okay,” Emile said, laughing. “I’m very happy you’re my acquaintance, then.”

Remy ducked his head away and scrunched his shoulders up, but Emile could have sworn he heard Remy mumble, “Me, too.”


	3. Chapter 3

####  **August 20th, 1998**

Remy bit his lip and tried not to cry as Toby packed up the last of his stuff to go off to college. When Toby turned around Remy walked up to him and hugged him tight. He didn’t want to be left alone to fend off his parents himself, but he knew he didn’t have a choice in the matter. “Promise you’ll write to me?” he asked. That was the one comfort he knew Toby could give him.

“I promise, baby bro. I’ll write every day if that’s what will make you feel better,” Toby said, ruffling Remy’s hair. “I know Mom and Dad can be a bit much, but you’ll be fine. You’re sixteen, now. You can handle it.”

“I hope so,” Remy said.

“I know so,” Toby replied with a grin. “See you at Thanksgiving, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Remy said, giving Toby a wave before Toby got in the car and Mom and Dad drove him away to school.

####  **September 13th, 2000**

Remy sighed as he sat in his dorm room, pouring over his textbooks. He was trying to study hard, honestly, he was, but he was having such a hard time focusing, that he really couldn’t do much of anything. It wasn’t like any of this was new to him, and anything more advanced he wanted to look up was only a computer away. He shook his head and closed the books. It was about time for dinner, he was hungry, and he needed the break this would give him desperately.

He walked out of the room and headed to the elevator, getting in and hitting the button for the ground floor, leaning against the back wall as he waited to get downstairs so he could head to the cafeteria.

The elevator paused on the second floor, and Remy sighed as the door opened and Emile was on the other side. “Remy, hey!” Emile exclaimed. “Fancy running into you!”

“Yeah, shocker, we live in the same building and we both use the elevator at the same time,” Remy said, rolling his eyes.

Emile stepped in and the elevator doors closed. “I’m heading to the cafeteria to get dinner. What about you?” Emile asked.

“Same,” Remy said. “Just couldn’t focus on my homework, and it’s about time for dinner anyway. I could use the excuse.”

Emile laughed and Remy just briefly smiled, before Emile looked over at him. “What about your homework is making it hard to focus? Maybe I could help?”

“Doubtful,” Remy said. “I just know everything in there, you know? It’s...it’s boring. It’s impossible to focus on when I know all of it already. And I don’t even know why I’m taking notes because I’m only writing down what’s already in the book. Which, as I said, I know anyway. I’m bored out of my skull.”

“That’s no good,” Emile said, and they both walked out of the elevator when it hit the ground floor, both of them heading outside to walk to the cafeteria. “Isn’t there something that you’d like to study that you don’t know?”

“Meh,” Remy said, shrugging. “There’s stuff it could be fun to learn about, but I don’t like learning for grades on principal. It feels wrong to be told you’re smart or you’re stupid based on how quickly you can retain information.”

“Yeah, grades are...not fun,” Emile said. “But you must get good ones, if you know everything?”

Remy barked a laugh. “No. My professor hates me, because I’m always sitting in the back of the class, knowing the answer to every question and I play video games on my laptop with earbuds in when I can’t stand listening to him drone on and on. He gives me good marks for notes, but he’s implementing participation grades, just for me.”

“Ouch,” Emile said, wincing. “That’s...not good.”

“Tell me about it,” Remy sighed, looking over at Emile. “I don’t even know why I’m going to college.”

“To get a degree which will give you a solid job?” Emile asked.

“Getting a degree doesn’t guarantee you a job, not in this economy,” Remy said, shaking his head. “College is a bunch of extra hoops I’m not interested in jumping through. But my parents made me apply, and shipped me off here. I’m not getting a bunch of financial aid, but I’m paying out of my own pocket anyway, not my parents. They put my brother and sister through college, they really don’t need to worry about me as well.”

“They don’t need to worry about you or you don’t want to owe them?” Emile asked.

“Both, I guess,” Remy said with a shrug. “I never like owing anyone anything. Too much risk with too little reward.”

Emile frowned. “My parents are helping me through college, because I can’t get a job that really...gives me that boost that I need.”

“Oh, I’m working at the Starbucks nearby to pay what I need to pay immediately for stuff, everything else is going to be loans once I need them. As of right now, I only have one or two that I need to worry about. I’ll freak out more later, when they get into the tens of thousands of dollars, you know?” Remy said.

“Wow,” Emile said. “You’re going to school full-time and working part-time? How do you balance that?”

“Very carefully,” Remy said as they entered the cafeteria. “I assume you’re going to want to eat with me, since you never seem to leave me alone?”

“I’ll only eat with you if you’re comfortable with it,” Emile said.

“No skin off my nose either way,” Remy said with a shrug. “Plus I get someone to gripe to, so sure. We can sit together.”

Emile beamed at that and immediately said, “I’m gonna go grab a pizza, meet you by the sunroof?”

As soon as Remy agreed Emile was off like a shot. Remy went to the salad bar, before he grabbed some things for a turkey sandwich, and then went over to the sunroof, which was really glass on three sides of the wall plus the roof, protruding outward from the rest of the building. The view was nice enough, Remy supposed, but he wasn’t sure why Emile was so over the moon about sitting here. Because he had seen Emile here multiple times, it wasn’t like he never got to sit over here, after all. It was weird. In an endearing way, admittedly, but still weird.

Remy was starting to pick at his salad as Emile came over with two slices of pizza and a huge grin. “I’m happy we get to eat together!” he chirped.

“Why?” Remy asked. “I openly admitted I’m using you as the person I gripe to when whatever I need to gripe about comes up. That’s usually not seen as an attractive quality in conversation, or friends.”

“I like to think it means you’re comfortable enough to express that you don’t like something,” Emile said with a shrug. “Really, it takes a level of trust to gripe to someone, even if that trust is just, ‘They won’t cut you off in the middle of talking’ or ‘They won’t get upset if you get upset.’ And I’m wanting to become a therapist, after all. Listening is kinda what I do.”

Remy gave Emile a  _ you’ve gotta be kidding me _ look. “You don’t let anything get you down, do you?”

“Oh, I can get sad!” Emile chirped. “But I choose to focus on the positives as much as I can, so I don’t  _ have _ to be sad nearly as much.”

Remy frowned, continuing to pick at his salad. “This is ridiculous,” he sighed. “Why are you like this? Are you just this annoyingly optimistic with everyone you meet? Or are you being this cheery purposefully to spite me?”

Emile blinked. “I...don’t know what you mean? Why would I be cheery to spite you?”

“It’s something people do, you know? Smile in the face of their biggest fears, say ‘You don’t scare me’ until they actually believe it, that sort of crap,” Remy said, waving his fork around. “Except you can apply it to people too.”

“Huh,” Emile said. “I’ve never considered it that way before. I’m not being happy to spite you, though, it’s just genuinely hard to get me down.”

Remy pulled a face. “Great. Just great. So I can’t even get you to stop.”

“Would you...want me to stop?” Emile asked.

Remy stared out the glass to the campus of the college, where the sun was just beginning to set, and lots of kids were still running around, having fun right before their dinner. “I don’t even know,” Remy said, more to himself than to Emile. “Anyone who’s been that cheery to me before has always been faking it. I don’t know what I’d do if someone were actually, seriously that cheery all the time.”

Emile put a hand on Remy’s free one and Remy snapped back to the present, finding Emile looking at him with concern. Remy scowled and freed his hand. “Forget it. Be as cheery as you want. Just don’t expect me to do the same.”

“You know, Remy...” Emile trailed off. “...You can give me any secret and I’ll take it to my grave.”

Remy shrugged. “Okay,” he said. But sharing secrets was dangerous, and he only ever did it sparingly even with people he trusted, so he didn’t say anything else.

Emile waited for a minute, eyes flickering over Remy’s face before he turned back to his pizza. He took a massive bite that gave Remy sympathetic heartburn and he tried to ignore it by finishing his salad and moving to his sandwich. When both of them had finished their dinners, Remy propped his head up with one hand. He hated to admit it, but he was starting to get used to Emile’s company. And he had to be more interesting than the textbooks that Remy had been staring at for hours. So he braced himself and bit the bullet. “Are you doing anything else tonight?”

“Not particularly,” Emile said. “I thought I might go on a run, or something, because my DnD group had to cancel this week, but I hate running, so I’ve been looking for an excuse to do anything else. Why?”

Emile’s eyes were wide and hopeful, and Remy inwardly cringed. He hated that he was giving in this easily, but he  _ needed _ to do something that wasn’t studying. “Maybe we could hang out? Like, maybe not in each others’ dorms, not if you want to do something besides study or let me gripe, but...I don’t know. It’s something to do, you know?”

“Yeah! I’d love to hang out with you!” Emile exclaimed.

“Great,” Remy sighed. “You don’t have to shout about it, though.”

Emile laughed and shrugged unapologetically. They both grabbed their now empty trays and put everything in their respective places to be cleaned or thrown away. Then, they headed back to their dorm building. “So do you want to hang out in one of the commons?” Emile asked. “Or we could always go to my room, if you wanted.”

“Your room is probably a good idea,” Remy said. “You don’t have a roommate, do you?”

“No. You?” Emile asked.

“Yeah,” Remy sighed. “He’s almost never around, but he’s still there as I’m going to bed and when I wake up in the morning.”

Emile shrugged. “Could be worse, I suppose. He could be there all the time.”

“Yeah,” Remy sighed.

They went to Emile’s dorm room and Remy blinked in surprise. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but a room covered in cartoon posters and a bed full of pillows wasn’t very high on his list. “I...wow,” Remy said. “You went ham on the decorations.”

“Yeah,” Emile said with a little shrug. “There wasn’t going to be anyone else on the other side of the room, because housing happened to have a couple openings from people winding up not going here, and I happened to be lucky enough to get a room to myself. So I thought, I’m gonna make the room well and truly mine, you know?”

Remy didn’t really know, but he nodded regardless, because getting kicked out wasn’t high on his list of wants at the moment. “So...Emile, I’m guessing you watch cartoons,” he said, nodding to the posters.

“Oh! Yeah,” Emile agreed. “I think they’re fun, you know? And they can teach adults things too, not just kids! Whenever I’m a therapist, I’m probably going to use cartoons as analogies for whatever I’m explaining to a patient about.”

“Why?” Remy asked, sitting on the bed on the side of the room that was completely undecorated.

“Why not?” Emile asked. “If it helps people get better, then why wouldn’t I use it?”

“Because it’s...childish?” Remy asked. “Frankly, I think using cartoons as therapy is a little ridiculous.”

“Oh...” Emile said, doing that wilting thing again. “Well, I guess you wouldn’t be very receptive to my kind of therapy.”

“I’m not receptive to any kind of therapy. I don’t need therapy,” Remy said.

“Right,” Emile mumbled, nodding. “So...uh...what about your textbooks specifically is driving you up the wall?”

Remy, relieved for the change in topic, delved right into all his problems with what the book taught, noticing Emile bringing out and hugging a stuffed teddy bear, and cheering up after he did so. Remy found it a little weird, but chose not to comment. He hated when Emile did that wilting thing. It made his stomach twist in a way he found was decidedly unpleasant.


	4. Chapter 4

####  **September 3rd, 1989**

“Hi! What’s your name?” Emile asked the shy boy who was standing by the slide on the playground.

“...Casey,” the boy mumbled.

“I’m Emile! Do you want to play a game with me?” Emile asked. “We could be friends!”

“I’ve never had a friend before,” Casey said softly. “How does being friends work?”

“You can figure it out as you go!” Emile exclaimed. “All my friends just like playing with me and sometimes reading with me! Maybe you want to do something different, but those are the big things that most of my friends do! We could play tag, if you want?”

“Sure, I like tag,” Casey said, smiling.

“I’ll be ‘it’ first! You have a ten second head start, better make the most of it!” Emile exclaimed.

Casey grinned and ran off, leaving Emile to count, before taking off after his new friend.

####  **September 15th, 2000**

Emile smiled at the man who he was sitting next to in the local coffee shop, who he was quickly becoming fast friends with. Remy was pouring over his business textbook with a sigh. “I mean, I know ninety percent of the stuff in this book! I don’t understand why I’m going to college!” Remy complained.

Shrugging, Emile said, “There has to be some reason, right? Something that you really want to learn?”

“Not really,” Remy sighed. “I don’t know why I’m wasting money when I’m not even gonna learn anything.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t go to college,” Emile said with a shrug.

Remy sat back in his chair and hummed. “You know, you may have a point…” He shook his head and sighed. “But what would my parents think?”

Emile leaned back in his chair and scratched his head. “Who cares what they think? You’re going to school on  _ your _ dime, not theirs. If you don’t want to go into debt and you don’t think you’re going to learn anything, why stick around?”

“To be out of my parents’ house?” Remy asked with an incredulous laugh. “I mean, it’s not like they’d let me go back to live with them without having a job.”

“You have a job,” Emile said, gesturing to the coffee shop they were in.

“A  _ real _ job, Emile,” Remy scoffed. “If rent is too expensive, they definitely won’t help, unless I’m making, like, six figures a year and I still can’t afford housing near wherever I work.”

“That’s terrible!” Emile said. “They’d make you homeless just because you’re working your tail off as a barista and not...whatever else they want you to be?”

“They were upset enough I went into business, and not accounting,” Remy said with a laugh. “But I would kill myself left to my own devices as an accountant, and I figured they’d rather have a semi-miserable kid over a dead kid. Though, I don’t know...they already have their golden boy, and that’s my brother Toby.”

Emile stared at Remy in complete shock. He was talking like this was just life, like he was discussing the weather, and not shaking Emile’s entire perception of his new friend to his very core. Suddenly, a lot of the things he said were making an ugly picture. An incomplete picture, but an ugly one nonetheless.

“Enough about me, though, what about you?” Remy asked.

“What about me?” Emile repeated dumbly.

Remy jabbed at Emile’s textbooks with a laugh. “Learning anything new from your textbooks? Psychology, all that good stuff?”

“Oh, uh, yeah...” Emile said. “Learning a bit. I don’t want to bore you with the specifics, though.”

Remy waved a hand. “Eh, psychology is  _ somewhat _ interesting to me. What parts are you specifically going over?”

“Uh, currently, childhood development,” Emile said.

“Ah. Yeah. Not a huge fan of that one,” Remy replied. “So maybe spare me the details on that chapter.”

“Sure,” Emile said, nodding. He knew enough about Remy to avoid talking about this latest revelation just yet. But that left Emile with another problem. Namely, what to talk about. “Uh, that means I don’t really know what to talk about, though.”

Remy rested his arms on his books and his head on his arms. “Uh...you could talk about...pretty much whatever, really, I’m not picky.”

“Just so long as it’s a topic that adults could reasonably talk about without strange looks, right?” Emile asked.

“Hm?”

“I mean, would you really want me to ramble on about cartoons?” Emile asked. “You certainly didn’t seem to enjoy my room all that much, what with all the cartoon stuff everywhere.”

“Oh,” Remy said, grimacing. “I mean...do you  _ want _ to talk about cartoons?”

“Not if the other person won’t enjoy them,” Emile said.

“It’s not that I don’t enjoy cartoons...” Remy scratched his neck before hanging his head. “Okay, yeah, it’s that I don’t enjoy cartoons. But I’m in no position to complain because I have a minor obsession with comic books. So you can talk about cartoons if you want to, so long as I can talk about comic books.”

“You have yourself a deal,” Emile said. “Still, cartoons is a pretty broad topic. It’s hard to narrow down what to talk about without something else to build off of.”

“The same is true with comics,” Remy pointed out. “Have you ever tried to piece together a comic timeline? It’s a horror show.”

“I’ve never gotten into comics for that exact reason. I have no idea where I would start!” Emile exclaimed. “There’s so many superheroes, and so many variations of the same ones, and so many timelines and stories within those variations! It’s...it’s completely jumbled! It makes no sense to me!”

“Yeah, well, comics definitely aren’t for everyone,” Remy said with a little smile.

“Same with cartoons,” Emile said. “Everyone has different tastes.”

“Yeah,” Remy said.

“The problem is when you start bashing people or their interests just because you’re not into them,” Emile said. “Like...you know, saying something is stupid or childish, or just not worth your time.”

Remy frowned briefly, before recognition crossed his face. “Oh.  _ Oh. _ You’re referring to me.”

“Just a little bit. You’re not the first to say that cartoons are for children, and you won’t be the last. But you might have been the meanest to date,” Emile said.

Remy rolled his eyes. “I was trying to be kind. If that’s the meanest thing you’ve ever heard about your interests, you must be the most sheltered kid ever.”

“If that’s the nicest thing you could manage, then maybe you shouldn’t say anything about cartoons,” Emile said. “Because that was really mean. That  _ hurt _ me. I don’t like the way you said it, and I don’t like how you’re brushing it off now.”

Remy huffed and crossed his arms, saying, “Well, someone clearly can’t take a joke.”

“That wasn’t a joke!” Emile exclaimed. “And if you were trying to make it one then it definitely fell flat! Why can’t you acknowledge that it hurt me?”

“I’m just trying to prepare you for reality,” Remy scoffed. “If you can’t understand that then you’re clearly not ready for it yet.”

“Reality isn’t just people being mean to each other all the time!” Emile exclaimed, very nearly reaching the end of his rope. He started packing up his books. “You know what? Maybe you were right. Being friends is not a good idea. Clearly, you aren’t ready to own up to your mistakes and I have friends who  _ respect _ me and my interests elsewhere.”

Remy blinked at Emile in shock.

Emile just felt that much more irritated that Remy didn’t even say anything. “Good luck with college,” he growled. “Maybe one day you’ll learn what friends  _ really _ are. I hope that you manage to find some people who make you happy.”

And with that, he stormed out of the coffee shop. The door opened after him and Remy called, “Emile?”

Emile didn’t even slow his stride. Rushed footsteps came after him and a desperate hand grabbed for his wrist. Emile wrenched it free and levelled Remy with a glare. “Am I a joke to you?” he asked.

“What? No!” Remy exclaimed.

“I get that you might not like that I’m an optimist, but you don’t have to tear me down every chance you get! I’m trying to be your friend, I’m trying to be nice to you, but you make it near impossible every time you open your mouth!” Emile’s vision blurred with tears. “I want to help you feel less lonely. Because whether you admit it or not, I know you need some form of company. Everybody does! I  _ want _ to get to know you! You seem like a really interesting guy! But if you keep on insulting me and my interests, then I can’t be friends with you. I can’t even hang around you. Because I need to make sure that my mental health and my happiness comes first. I have to be my first priority. And if you’re going to hurt me, then you can’t be a part of my life.”

“I...” Remy had a myriad of emotions flitting across his face. “I’m sorry. I...I never really had friends. Before. I don’t know how I’m supposed to act around them. I don’t want to hurt you, honestly. I just...don’t know where the lines I shouldn’t cross are.”

“You want to toughen me up,” Emile said. “By definition, that’s going to hurt me and wear me down more and more until I can’t take life the way it is any longer. And I rather like my life the way it is.”

Remy looked lost. “I want to help you,” he said. “Don’t you see? I’m trying to help!”

Emile shook his head. “I don’t think I’m the one who needs help in this situation, Remy.”

Remy frowned. “What, you think I need to see a shrink?”

“I think that if you’ve never had friends before, you shouldn’t decide that you know everything about friendship and that you can make decisions for the people who you’re trying to become friends with,” Emile said. “And whether or not the help you get surrounding friends is professional, you need to learn about what friendship really is.”

Remy let his hand drop. “But...but...how do I get friends, so I can learn?”

“Well, maybe if you stopped acting like an arrogant know-it-all people might approach you more,” Emile hissed.

Remy reeled back like he had been slapped. “Is that...is that how you see me?”

Emile blinked rapidly as his tears fell. “I know it’s how most of my friends see you! They’ve asked me more than once why I hang around you! And I always told them it’s because I thought I saw some kindness inside you. But clearly,” his voice cracked. “Clearly I was wrong.”

Remy opened his mouth, but no words came out.

Emile turned and continued to walk back to the campus. It was about half a mile, it couldn’t take that long to retreat to his room and cry for a little. He heard Remy retreat back to the coffee shop, and he hoped that Remy would stay there to lick his wounds, or at least leave Emile alone. He needed time to regroup, to decide what he was going to do about Remy. He wasn’t sure he could still be friends with the man, as much as he wanted to be. Remy would need people around him sooner or later, and Emile wanted to help. He always wanted to help, but he had to learn to detach himself from situations, so that he didn’t burn out being emotionally invested with everyone he met. Therapist or not, that was a skill he needed to learn.

He heard running behind him, and Emile rolled his eyes, moving to the right side of the sidewalk, staring resolutely at the buildings on the opposite side of the street, and not acknowledging the slowing footsteps as the person fell into Emile’s rhythm of walking.

“Sooner or later you’re going to have to acknowledge me, Emile,” Remy warned.

Emile just kept staring across the street.

Remy’s hand brushed against Emile’s, before Remy apparently thought better of it, and his hand retreated. “Emile, please, just look at me.”

Emile glanced over to find Remy hiding his eyes behind his blonde bangs. “I...I wanted to hurt you, yeah, to toughen you up. But that’s no excuse. And...for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I’m realizing that was wrong. I just...” he sniffled, and lifted his head, and Emile was surprised to see tears in Remy’s eyes. “I want to be your friend. And I’m terrified, because the last time I was friends with someone who wasn’t my brother, they absolutely crushed me. I...I don’t want that to happen again. My brain keeps screaming that’s what’s gonna happen if I get close to you...” He shook his head. “But you know what? I think that it’s worth the risk. I...I want to be your friend, Emile. I’m so sorry. Please, please just consider my apology when you decide whether or not we can be friends? Because I’m truly sorry.”

Emile’s resolve wavered and he nodded, offering Remy a small smile. “Okay,” he said. “We can give being friends another shot. But you’d better believe that I’m roping you into doing DnD and watching cartoons and a bunch of other ‘dorky’ stuff.”

Remy cringed, but nodded. “Thank you,” he breathed.

Emile nodded back, and they walked back to campus together.


	5. Chapter 5

####  **December 23rd, 1985**

“I’m so sorry that I had to do that, sweetie, but you know it’s for your own good,” his mom said. “You can’t go around hugging everyone you see, it will give someone the wrong impression.”

Remy sniffled a little but pulled up his pants and nodded. He had only hugged his older cousins because he was happy to see them, he didn’t understand what the big deal was. But maybe it was some super secret adult thing. Remy didn’t know. If hugging people got him in trouble with a spanking, though, he definitely wasn’t going to hug them anymore. Even if Magenta begged, even if Nate chased him around the house.

He wasn’t going to get in trouble again.

####  **October 14th, 2000**

“I really don’t think this is a good idea, Emile...” Remy said. His heels were digging into the grass as Emile dragged him by the arm over to where a group of people were already chatting and laughing.

“Come on, Remy. You don’t have to be friends with any of these people, but as  _ my _ friend I want to introduce you to my  _ other _ friends,” Emile said.

“But...but you know what happened with Clara, what if it turns out that I insulted more of your friends?” Remy asked.

“Then you can apologize and work to make amends, Remy, it’s not that hard,” Emile said, tilting his head to the side with puppy-dog eyes. Remy hated those puppy-dog eyes; they were near impossible to say no to. “Please? Just give this a shot.”

Remy inwardly sighed. “I’ve...I’ve never really gotten in trouble before for what I’ve said. At least, not in the regular way most kids do when they backtalk. I...I don’t have experience with ‘proper apologies’ as you called them.”

Emile stopped and turned to face Remy fully, and Remy scratched the back of his neck. He was still terrified of Emile going ballistic over something Remy did. Even if last time they had fought Emile only left the situation, what would happen if that wasn’t possible? What would happen if Remy pushed beyond the point of no return? Emile was proving to be a good friend, someone who Remy could trust with the little things. He didn’t want to lose that. “Remy, I’m not mad with you, okay? If you need help apologizing, then I can help you. But I don’t want you shying away from talking to people just because you said some things you shouldn’t have while trying to defend yourself.”

Remy sighed again, outwardly this time, and nodded. Emile had a point. He  _ always _ had a point. “Just...just promise me that you won’t leave me alone with these guys if I don’t feel comfortable with that?”

“Of course,” Emile assured. “I would never dream of hurting you, and that includes scaring you.”

Remy knew that was true, much as it confused him. He nodded, and together they walked over to Emile’s friends, who grew quiet when they all saw Remy. Remy cringed—had he really given off that much of a bad impression? “Guys, this is Remy,” Emile said, gesturing to him. “I invited him to play frisbee with us today. I hope you don’t mind?”

“I don’t know, Emile. You know we love you, but...sometimes the ‘friends’ you pick up off the street and take home with you aren’t the best. You don’t have the best judgement for who will or won’t hurt you,” one of the guys said.

Remy flinched. “You’re...Xavier, right?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Xavier said, leveling Remy with a glare. “And I don’t appreciate what you said about my girlfriend.”

“I’m...I’m really sorry about that,” Remy said. “I don’t have any good reason to have said what I did, because there is no good reason to insult anyone. Emile’s been teaching me that. Um. I...never really had a lot of friends growing up—”

“—Shocker,” Xavier said.

Remy’s eyes stung with tears. “Which means that I don’t know where the lines I shouldn’t cross are. You don’t have to be friends with me. That’s fine. But Emile was trying to be nice to me by inviting me to play with you guys. Don’t insult  _ his _ judgement just because I’ve been a real...well, you can fill in the blank with whatever word you choose. They’re all pretty accurate.”

Xavier stared him down and Remy wanted to crawl under a rock and die right then and there. “Emile, I’m starting to think this was a bad idea,” Remy said in a pained whisper.

“Oh, yeah, you definitely shouldn’t have shown up,” Xavier growled, taking a step forward.

Remy flinched back and away, bringing his hands up to block an attack. His breathing was picking up, and he was wondering if this was it. Would Emile decide that Remy was a lost cause? Would Xavier punch him in the face? He certainly deserved it. He was so stupid—he should have stood his ground when Emile first invited him to this and said no. His foot slipped on a small rock as he tried to get away, sending him crashing to the ground. And great, now he was definitely crying, and panicking, and he didn’t see a way out of this. He was supposed to stay unattached so this sort of thing wouldn’t happen.  _ This _ was why he didn’t make friends, he was too much of a crybaby, no one would ever take him seriously if he just kept crying at every obstacle he faced.

Now there were hands on him and Remy couldn’t get away, his whole body hurt from hitting the ground and he was having a panic attack and this was officially the worst day  _ ever. _ Someone was saying his name, but it sounded distorted, like he was stuck underwater, or maybe behind a pane of glass. He kept his eyes screwed shut tight and rode out the wave of panic the best he could, and when he felt like he could breathe again he opened his eyes, just a crack. It was Emile who had put hands on his shoulders, and all of Emile’s friends were staring at him, including Xavier. “You good, man?” Xavier asked.

“Fine,” Remy lied. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” Clara said.

“Clara,” Emile warned.

“Just tripped, I’ll be fine. Just a little sore,” Remy said.

“Yeah...no. You looked like you were convinced Xavier was gonna slug you,” another guy said. “Which, I mean, maybe he gets angry but he doesn’t hit people.”

Remy sat up, but noticed that Emile’s hands didn’t leave his shoulders. “Okay, everyone, your concern is touching, but I’m  _ fine,” _ Remy insisted. “It was a tiny panic attack. It happens sometimes. We can all move on.”  _ Stop pressing the issue, please. _

“If you’re sure?” Emile asked.

Remy gave him a smile and a nod. “Yeah. I’m gonna hurt for like, twenty minutes, but I can still play, if you guys will have me. If you don’t, though, I get it.”

“Nah, man,” Xavier said. “I was letting a grudge override my better judgement. You apologized for your actions, that’s the end of that.”

“Really?” Remy asked, unable to hide his surprise.

Xavier nodded. “I might not be happy with you for a little while yet, but you can play with us if you want to.”

“Huh.” Remy blinked. “I’m not used to that, but sure, let’s play.”

Emile lightly touched Remy’s arm as everyone spread out while Clara grabbed a frisbee. Remy followed Emile to where he was starting as Clara tossed the frisbee in the air a few times. “You know, I think you scared Xavier pretty bad. Scared all of us, really.”

“Oh. Sorry,” Remy grimaced.

“Not something to apologize for,” Emile said softly. “But are you okay? Remy, that sort of response, the panic attack and the flinching away...you wouldn’t happen to...have a history of abuse? You don’t have to answer, but I worry.”

“I wasn’t abused, Emile,” Remy said, watching as Clara threw the frisbee across the quad and Xavier caught it. “Never had that sort of problem growing up, don’t worry. I just...had a panic attack from slipping and falling. It startled me more than I anticipated, I guess.”

Emile bit his lip. “You know, I worry about you Remy.”

Remy bristled. “I know. It’s honestly a little annoying. It was endearing at first, but I feel like you’ve been crowding into my space lately.”

“Have I?” Emile asked. “I’ll back off if you want me to. But you know, I’m always here if you want to talk.”

“I know,” Remy said as the frisbee got tossed their way and Remy caught it, before flinging it across the quad, causing several of Emile’s friends to rush after it. “You constantly remind me of that fact.”

Emile looked...not hurt, and not worried, but some combination of the two. Remy ran a hand through his hair with a sigh. “What did I do this time?” he asked.

“You just...called me caring annoying. I don’t mind backing off if I’m crowding you, but friends caring about other friends isn’t annoying,” Emile explained.

“Ah,” Remy said. “I...don’t know how to respond to that, in all honesty.”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to,” Emile said. “Just...make sure that you’re not pushing everyone away, preferably sooner rather than later.”

Remy idly nodded before the frisbee flew wide and both him and Emile rushed after it. Remy certainly wasn’t left alone to his introspection, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t thinking. Everything he had been through, the yelling, the spanking, the neglect...that wasn’t abuse. Not in the sense that he had ever heard of. Spanking was discipline. Yelling just happened when people lost their temper. And the neglect...well, his parents had three kids. Someone had to get lost in the shuffle every once in a while. That didn’t point to abuse, right?

Sure, he may have been scared of Xavier hitting him, but he wouldn’t admit that to the others. They didn’t need to know about his problems, he didn’t need to burden them. And besides, if Emile had a  _ real _ reason to worry, Remy doubted he would ever be left alone, when sometimes, that was exactly what he wanted.

He ran a hand through his hair again before catching the frisbee and tossing it to Emile, who was halfway across the quad. Playing around was fun, he had to admit, but none of these people were his friends, save Emile. He didn’t  _ want _ friends beyond Emile, though. He barely wanted Emile to be his friend, half the time. He was nosy, constantly asking questions, and getting excited over things Remy didn’t understand. But then he’d hug Remy after they had talked for a while, or offer Remy half of the giant cookie he had gotten in the cafeteria when he noticed Remy’s stomach snarling, or even do something dorky like show Remy how to make flower crowns so once spring came around they could “be prepared,” and yeah, Remy had to admit that being friends with Emile also had its perks.

When everyone was pretty much done playing for the time being, they all reconvened at the edge of the quad, and chatted with each other for a little while. Apparently, half the people in this group were part of Emile’s DnD game, and the other half were those friends’ friends. Xavier came over to Remy and asked him softly, “You sure you’re okay, man? I didn’t mean to give you a panic attack.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Remy brushed off. “It takes a little more than some aggression to hurt me. I was more startled about falling than I was at you being angry. And you had every right to be angry.”

“Bea is the love of my life, so yeah, I was more than a little upset when you insulted her. But Emile has talked about you before. He says that you don’t make friends easy. For whatever reason, you mostly prefer to be alone. And I respect that because you obviously have your reasons. But if you’re trying to isolate yourself, man, that’s not healthy,” Xavier said.

“I’m not trying to isolate myself,” Remy shrugged off. “At least not on a conscious level. Friends are a lot of work, and I usually don’t have the energy to put in what other people want to get out of it. It saves both parties a little time and energy.”

“Okay, edgelord,” Xavier said with a little laugh. “But if you ever want to, like, hang out with people without really needing to know them, a friend of a friend is gonna be throwing a killer Halloween party, and I know Emile’s going. The two of you could hang out, maybe he could introduce you to someone you get on with. Who knows? Point is, everyone’s invited to the party, and between you and me,” Xavier’s voice dropped to a whisper, “They’re bringing the good booze.”

Remy hummed. “I might go. Especially if I can see Emile drunk. That would be hilarious.”

“Yeah, man,” Xavier laughed. “Between you and me I’m bringing a video camera, just so that I can show people how trashed they get at parties.”

Remy chuckled. “Sounds like fun, you’ve got me. I’m in.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for alcohol and a very drunk Remy

####  **June 20th, 1999**

Emile was reading one of his summer books that he needed to go over before senior year started when it hit him. He was going to be a  _ senior _ this next year. After that, he was going to go off to college. Sure, he knew that on some level before, and he had started the process to apply to a couple colleges already, but that was  _ real. _ It was almost  _ now _ at this point. He didn’t know how exactly he was going to handle that.

The thought of being on his own at college, even if his parents were only a phone call away, terrified him. It would be a dry-run of being an adult. He wasn't ready for that! He had barely turned eighteen! That was going to be hard, and scary, and he definitely wasn't ready. If college was anything like the movies, he was in huge trouble. His parents said that it wasn’t, but he didn’t know. A lot of his friends’ siblings seemed to disagree.

####  **October 31st, 2000**

Emile laughed as Remy practically skipped next to him as they walked to the frat house holding the Halloween party they had both been invited to. “I’ve never been to a party before,” Remy said, hands flying every which way. “Like, obviously I’ve been to birthday parties, but that was like, when I was a little kid. I’ve never been to a  _ proper _ party before.”

“Do you think you’re gonna enjoy it?” Emile asked, feeling his amusement bleed through into his tone just a bit.

Remy seemed too preoccupied to notice. “I think it’s going to be amazing,” he declared. “This will be my first chance at getting to try alcohol, too. I’ve never had it before.”

“Well, we’re both underage, so I’m not really surprised,” Emile pointed out. “But I’ll be the one carrying your drunk butt back to East Benz, got it.”

Remy stuck his tongue out at Emile before turning to face forward again and he laughed. “You’re gonna drink too, I bet.”

“I might drink,” Emile allowed. “But I doubt I’ll be getting  _ drunk.” _

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Remy said. “Here we are!”

They walked into the house and Emile was immediately assaulted by the sounds of the bass playing from the speakers, the smell of alcohol everywhere, and the sight of all the people in the house dancing, or making out, or flirting. Remy looked around next to him uncertainly. Emile inwardly was a little surprised. When Remy had said he had never been to a party before, Emile hadn’t realized he had  _ never _ been to a party like this before. He thought that Remy might have gone to one on a smaller scale. But no, his friend was apparently sheltered when it came to this area of life. “I’d recommend staying away from the punch,” Emile advised. “Sure, it’ll get you drunk, but you don’t know how much alcohol is in it. You have to be careful. I’d advise grabbing a beer if you  _ have _ to have a drink. Which, you know, you don’t.”

Remy glanced over at Emile. “It’s my first party, do you genuinely believe that I’ll be staying away from the alcohol?” he scoffed.

Emile shrugged. “Hey, I’m just saying,” he replied.

Remy rolled his eyes and made his way to the kitchen, presumably looking for the alcohol. Emile glanced around until he saw Sasha, the girl who had invited him in the first place. “Sasha!” he exclaimed, waving and walking over to her. She gave him a hug and they started chatting over the sound of the music. Emile knew it might be quieter upstairs, but he also knew that upstairs would be where the others would be getting busy. He wanted to avoid those noises if he could, even if it meant speaking over the bass.

Emile soon found himself doing the rounds with lots of people he had seen across campus introducing themselves to him. He smiled and shook their hands or hugged them as they saw fit, and when he was done with that, it had to be an hour and a half that had passed. He walked past where everyone was dancing and found the stairs to the upper floors being occupied by a moping Remy.

Immediately worrying that something was wrong, Emile walked over and leaned against the wall next to the steps, nudging Remy’s foot with his own. “Hey there, handsome. Something up?”

Remy looked up at Emile slowly and he giggled a little. “You know, I didn’t really understand what people meant when they said...when they said that alcohol is a depressant, but I think I understand better now.”

Emile frowned. “You feeling okay?”

With a hiccup, Remy shook his head. “You know...you know how I say I wasn’t abused?”

The hair on the back of Emile’s neck stood on end. “Yeah, I know. You’re pretty adamant that they didn’t hurt you.”

“Oh, they hurt me,” Remy said, chuckling hollowly. “But it wasn’t abuse. Not like, how you learn about in school, with the hitting or sexual situations. Never like that. But they hurt me, and I don’t exactly get along with them. And I’m trying to forget about them, but like...” Remy waved the near-empty beer bottle around, “This is just making me think of them more.”

“Then maybe you should stop drinking,” Emile said, gingerly taking the bottle out of Remy’s grasp.

“You’re really smart, Emile,” Remy said. “How did you get to be so smart?”

“I read a lot as a kid,” Emile said with a smile. “Do you want to get out of here?”

Remy shrugged. “I dunno. Was kinda hoping I’d get lucky.”

Emile laughed. “I don’t think that’s gonna happen tonight, Remy. You’re more than a little drunk.”

Remy sighed. “You’re smart, Emile,” he slurred. “It’s like...like you know all the secrets of the universe.”

“I don’t know about that,” Emile said, holding his arms out as Remy swayed to his feet. “But I like to think I know a lot.”

Remy stumbled forward and Emile barely caught him before he toppled to the floor. “Can you tell me why...” Remy whimpered, “Can you tell my why they never loved me as much? Why they always preferred Vanessa and Toby?”

“I’m sorry, Rem, but I can’t,” Emile said.

“Who’s Rem?” Remy asked.

“You are, if you don’t mind the nickname?” Emile asked.

“Nah, ‘s cute,” Remy slurred. “An’ you’re cute, even if I’m not. So it makes sense you’d say it.”

“I’d argue that a lot of people on both sides would find you cute,” Emile said.

“I’m not cute!” Remy exclaimed. “I’m tough!”

Emile did his best to stifle his laughter. “And you also can’t hold your weight in alcohol,” he teased. “Come on, we can get out of here.”

“Why?” Remy asked.

“Well, you’re drunk, and you look a bit like you’re about to cry, and I don’t think you’d want anyone seeing you cry if you were sober,” Emile said. “So I figured we could get you somewhere more private.”

“Gotta pee first,” Remy said.

Emile shook his head. “Of course you do. You know where the bathroom is?”

“Yeah,” Remy mumbled. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

And with that, he was gone. Emile hung by the stairs, nodding to the people who went by that acknowledged him. Almost everyone at the party was drunk, and Emile was starting to remember why he found so many high school parties boring.

A minute passed, and Emile was still waiting for Remy to come back. How long did it take to pee while drunk? Surely, not that long. Not unless you drank a two-liter bottle of soda or something.

Five minutes passed, and Emile was starting to worry. What had happened? Did Remy leave without Emile? Did he get lost in the crowd and couldn’t make his way through to the bathroom? Did he fall and hurt himself somehow?

Ten minutes had passed, and Emile was making his way through the crowd in an effort to find Remy. He knew the bathroom was right next to the kitchen...he pulled up short as he saw a clearly-still-very-drunk Remy chatting with a college junior who had a look in her eye that Emile didn’t like. Emile walked over and slid his arm around Remy’s shoulders. “Hey, Rem, there you are, I was looking for you!” Emile laughed. He turned to the junior and flashed her a fake thousand-watt smile. “And you are?”

“Jasmine,” she practically purred. “I was just talking to Remy here about how he must clearly work out. He’s quite an attractive man.”

“That he is,” Emile agreed. “I’m very happy that I’m a part of his potential dating pool.”

Jasmine blinked once, twice. “Sorry?”

“Haven’t you heard? All the hot ones are gay,” Emile said with a wink. “Anyway, Remy and I should get going. We have a date with some movies after this, right, Rem?”

“Mm,” Remy hummed.  _ “Halloweentown,  _ please?”

“If that’s what you want,” Emile agreed. He smiled at Jasmine. “It’s nice meeting you, though!”

He made a quick exit with Remy in tow, and once they were outside, Emile let himself relax a fraction. “Why’d we leave?” Remy asked.

“That junior was flirting with you,” Emile said. “And it didn’t look like she was going to take no for an answer, so I got you out of there.”

Remy giggled. “You said...you said we had a  _ date. _ Like...like we were dating or something.”

“I said we had a date with movies,” Emile said. “And I meant what I said, we can watch whatever movies you want. But just saying we have a date with movies doesn’t mean we’re dating.”

“Oh,” Remy pouted. “Shame. You’re pretty cute.”

Emile stopped stock still as he stared at Remy in shock. Remy swayed around to face Emile. “What? I can’t be the first guy to say that you’re cute! If my parents wouldn’t give me hell for it, I’d date you.”

“You’re drunk, Remy, we should just get you to bed,” Emile said. “Come on, you can sleep in my room tonight, if you want.”

“Like a date?” Remy giggled.

“Like a friend making sure your roommate doesn’t hate you in the morning,” Emile said. “Come on, we’re getting you to bed.”

“What about  _ Halloweentown? _ You can’t forget about the movies, Emile.”

Emile inwardly rolled his eyes. He didn’t imagine Remy being a stubborn drunk. “We can see if it’s on TV in the Commons, but if it’s not, we’ll have to wait until we can rent it from the library.”

“Aw, that’s no fun,” Remy griped. Emile nodded along to Remy’s rant all the way back to East Benz. “...And if you think that I’m not gonna rent it just for us to watch, then you’re  _ dead _ wrong!” Remy declared as they walked inside the dorm building and made their way to the elevator.

Emile shook his head fondly as they went to his floor and Emile helped Remy into his room. Remy sat down on the spare bed Emile had and he frowned, patting the mattress. “Y’know, I used to have a stuffed dog.”

“Did you?” Emile asked.

“Mhm,” Remy said. “His name was Bones. But my parents would take him away if I did something wrong, and no matter how much I cried they wouldn’t give him back. And one day they took him, and they  _ never _ gave him back.”

“That’s terrible, Remy,” Emile said.

Remy nodded. “I miss him, sometimes, still,” he said. “I think Toby found him one day, but he never gave Bones back to me. Don’t know why.”

“Maybe he wanted to keep your parents from finding you with him and throwing him away,” Emile offered.

“Maybe. Sounds like something Toby would do,” Remy agreed. He kicked off his shoes. “You’re really, really smart Emile.”

Emile offered a small smile to Remy. “Thanks, Rem. That means a lot. Now why don’t you try to sleep for a bit?”

Remy nodded and laid down on the mattress, promptly passing out. Emile changed into his pajamas, but he had a lot harder time falling asleep. Remy had said he had feelings for Emile.  _ No, he just said he would date you, _ his mind said.  _ That doesn’t mean he has feelings. It’s a hypothetical situation. And he probably only likes you aesthetically, anyway. _

_ ...But he still likes me aesthetically, then, _ he replied.  _ How do I respond to that? _

He didn’t know. He didn’t know how to respond to  _ anything _ that Remy had said that night. He had told Emile some of his deepest, darkest secrets, and he probably wouldn’t even remember it in the morning.

...Well, if he didn’t remember, that was good, right? Because Emile didn’t have feelings for Remy. And this way he wouldn’t have to let Remy down easily, or at all. He could wave off anything Remy remembered as a dream. It was a little scummy, but Emile didn’t know what else to do. He certainly didn’t know how to react to the thought that Remy might have  _ liked _ him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "What's this?" you may be asking yourself. "More than one chapter on the same story updated on the same day?!" Yes, dear reader, I have returned with another update, for the simple, selfish reason that I am dangerously close to reaching one million published words on AO3 and want to finish that goal _as soon as possible._ So you're getting an extra chapter! (Maybe two, but I make no promises, my writing speed isn't _that_ fast!) I hope you enjoy, and as always feel free to comment!

####  **August 24th, 2000**

Remy gripped one of his arms with the other as he stood at the threshold of his new dorm room in college as his mother whined and wailed and generally put on a display of the overly-attached, they-grow-up-so-fast mother. He stood there with an awkward half-smile on, waiting for her to finish her spiel as she crushed him in a hug, and then made her excuses to leave.

His dad was a lot less emotional, giving him a simple smile and a, “Make us proud, son,” before he was gone.

“Your parents are quite the pair,” his new roommate said from inside the dorm.

“Tell me about it,” Remy grumbled, closing the door. “I’m so glad I get to be away from them for a while.”

####  **November 1st, 2000**

Remy woke up with a killer headache as someone opened the blinds. “Ugh, d’you have to do that?!” he griped, not opening his eyes and turning away from the window.

A voice, that decidedly did  _ not _ sound like his roommate, laughed. “Oh, yeah, the hangover has set in. Do you need some ibuprofen?”

Remy’s eyes shot open, and he turned to face Emile, who was still standing in front of the window. He squinted and grimaced. “Ugh. Please?”

Emile silently passed Remy a pill bottle and some water. Remy grunted his thanks after he swallowed. “Ugh. What happened last night?”

“You got pretty drunk is what happened,” Emile said. “You could barely stand by the end of the night.”

Remy groaned and fell back onto the bed. Honestly, sleeping more sounded pretty good right about now.

“Hey, no, we gotta get breakfast, Rem,” Emile laughed. “I know you only have afternoon classes, but you need to eat.”

“Mmph. Says who?” Remy asked.

“Says the shrink-in-training who knows a balanced diet is a key factor to maintaining good mental health,” Emile responded matter-of-factly. “Come on, up. I doubt you’ll be the only one arriving for breakfast in what you slept in last night.”

Remy got off the bed, swaying ever-so-slightly. “Ugh, hangovers are nasty,” he grumbled.

And, of course, to make things worse, Emile looked immaculate; the only thing that could be considered “out of place” was his hair, and that wasn’t out of place so much, because his curly mop could never be tamed. Remy felt like a mess, probably  _ looked _ like a mess, and Emile looked ready to go to work wherever he might end up. “I didn’t say anything embarrassing, did I?” Remy asked.

“Embarrassing by your standards, or mine?” Emile asked, letting Remy outside the dorm room.

“Mine,” Remy said, wincing as the sounds of the second floor dorms filled his ears.

“Well, you talked about an old stuffed animal you used to have named Bones,” Emile said with a shrug.

“Oh, I almost forgot about Bones,” Remy said. It wasn’t quite true, but he had almost put the hurt of his mind, at the very least. “Anything else?”

Emile hummed. “Not that I can think of?”

“No talk about crushes or anything?” Remy asked.

Emile laughed. “No, not that I can think of.”

“Okay, good,” Remy sighed. “I had a crazy dream last night where I said I would date you, and I wasn’t sure if I had actually just been drunk.”

“No,” Emile said, shaking his head. He stared forward as they waited for the elevator. “Just a dream, Remy, nothing to worry about. Unless, of course, you believe that means you secretly  _ do _ have a crush on me.”

Remy laughed. “Oh, as if! You’re  _ so _ not my type,” he lied. He wasn’t even aware he  _ had _ a type before today, but clearly, with George in high school and now Emile, he was into the nerds and the geeks. Emile wasn’t full-blown crush, not yet, but he was certainly up there on Remy’s potentials. And when a geek trumped the members of the football team or the swim team, you  _ knew _ you had a problem.

Emile laughed a little. “Are you sure? Brainiacs are the future!”

“You’re cute, Emile, don’t get me wrong,” Remy said, as the elevator doors opened and the two walked in to find two other people already waiting. “Just not  _ my _ type. Personality-wise.”

“So what  _ is _ your type?” Emile asked, grinning. “I might be able to set you up.”

“Ah, no thanks,” Remy said. “Friends are enough for me right now.”

“And later?” Emile asked. “If you decide you want to look for someone?”

Remy blew out a breath. “I’ll go up to whoever I like and say, ‘Hey, I’m going thousands of dollars into debt to get this one paper certificate that won’t guarantee me a job but I was told to get anyway. Want to suffer together?’”

Emile laughed as they left the elevator. “Well, that’s an original pickup line, don’t get me wrong,” he said. “But seriously, what do you plan on doing after this semester?”

“What do you mean?” Remy asked.

“Well, midterms are like...next week, Remy,” Emile pointed out.

“Wait, what.”

“Yeah, they’re next week,” Emile repeated, as ice entered Remy’s bloodstream. “Did you forget?”

“Yeah,” Remy said, voice pitched an octave and a half too high. “Oh man, like, I’ve been saving all my cash from the job to pay for the next semester, but I don’t know if it’s going to be enough. I might have to take out more loans than I thought. Oh man. Oh no.”

Emile put a hand on Remy’s arm. “Hey, deep breaths, Rem. Don’t want to go into another panic attack.”

Remy made a pained noise that roughly translated to  _ too late. _ He tried to breathe, but his chest felt far too tight. He couldn’t, like, at all.

Emile led him to the cafeteria, by which time Remy’s brain had finally sputtered to life again. “I can’t do this,” he mumbled. “I can’t...I can’t...I can’t do this.”

“Hey, Rem, you’ll do fine,” Emile said. “You said yourself you know everything in your classes!”

“No. No, I mean I can’t do  _ this,” _ Remy said, waving his hands around the cafeteria. “I can’t do  _ college. _ Not for three and a half more years. Emile, it’s going to kill me. I’m going to die if I keep trying to go to school. I’m gonna grow bored, or I’m gonna grow even worse mental health-wise than however shaky that is right now. I can’t do that. I can’t stand it here. College...can and  _ will _ kill me.”

Emile visibly swallowed as they both went over to the waffle maker and Remy went first, pouring the batter into the waffler and closing it tight. “Then you really shouldn’t be going to college, Remy. If it’s hurting you, then definitely do  _ not _ keep coming here.”

Remy sighed. He knew Emile had a point. He  _ knew _ that. But still... “My parents—”

“—Under no circumstances will be your excuse to stay in a place that is literally  _ going to kill you,” _ Emile said sternly. “If this is going to drive you to jump off a building, or hang yourself, or do something stupid so you go out as a martyr, then  _ don’t keep doing it.” _

Remy stared at Emile in shock and confusion until the waffler dinged. He grabbed the waffle, grabbed whipped cream, and sprinkles, and started making his signature mess of a breakfast. “This is going to come across as really insensitive,” he warned Emile. “But...you genuinely care. Why?”

Emile poured waffle batter in the waffler silently before sighing. “I’ve lost too many friends to suicide already.”

“Friends? As in, plural?” Remy asked.

“Yes, Remy. Friends as in plural. High school was not a kind place. Nor was middle school, for that matter, but high school was the final straw for both of them,” Emile said. “Almost lost a third, too. Walked in on her popping pills like they were after-dinner mints.”

“I—” Remy didn’t know what to say. “I’m so sorry.”

“At least I caught the final one in time,” Emile said with a bitter smile. “She didn’t speak to me for a long while after that. Emailed me right before I went off to college, thanking me. She had finally found medication that actually worked for her. Didn’t get a chance to see her before I left, but we’ve been talking about seeing each other over winter break.”

“I hope you get that chance,” Remy said.

“Me too,” Emile sighed. “But Remy, please. If college will kill you, drop out of college. Your parents do not take priority over your mental health. What’s keeping you from dropping out, other than your parents opinions?”

“Finding a place to stay,” Remy said.

“I’ll help you find a roommate who can pay rent, I know a few people around campus who are desperate to live nearby but not in the dorms. What else?”

“Money for food, transportation,” Remy said.

“If you’re not paying for college you should have enough money so that you can buy the food to get you through, even if you no longer have a meal plan. We can get you a bike, or figure out the bus routes needed for you to get to Starbucks to work,” Emile said. “And if necessary there’s other options around the city that I know are hiring.”

Remy had never seen someone angrily pour syrup on a waffle before, but watching Emile do just that was an experience. “Emile...why would you do this for me? Like, I get the whole wanting me to drop out so I get to be your friend still and I don’t wind up dead thing, but that doesn’t mean you have to help me figure everything out.”

“I’m your friend, Remy. Of  _ course _ I’m going to help you,” Emile said. “That’s what friends  _ do. _ They help each other.”

“But...but this feels like going above and beyond,” Remy said, wincing as someone shouted something unintelligible across the cafeteria. “Like, most friends support their other friends’ decisions, but you’re actually mapping out how I would live if I were to genuinely drop out.”

“Friends can and should help you prepare for the future if you need help, or even just want help. If they’re able to offer help, they should, in my opinion,” Emile said.

They moved further into the cafeteria to eat, and Remy was thankful that Emile chose one of the darker parts of the cafeteria, away from the windows and the sunroof. “What’s going above and beyond, then?” Remy asked.

Emile shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t think there is an ‘above and beyond’ with friendships, but if you need a threshold, how about...moving in with you and getting a part-time job so you can afford the rent and food?”

“That’s definitely above and beyond,” Remy said.

Emile turned thoughtful, poking at his food. “Is it, though, actually?”

“What do you mean?” Remy asked, frowning and taking a bite of waffle.

“I mean, that’s something I could definitely do. It sounds like a good idea, actually,” Emile said.

Remy choked on his waffle piece, before coughing violently and swallowing the rock that had returned to his mouth. “You serious? I thought...I thought you would want to like...see your friends over the holidays, and your folks. You seem like you’d be close to your folks.”

“Well, I can still see them over the holidays,” Emile reasoned. “But this just means I wouldn’t be moving back home over the summer and then moving  _ again _ when it comes to sophomore year. I can visit my parents without having to live in their house. We could get a two-bedroom apartment, split the rent and food over the summer, and I could handle the rent during the school year while you worry about food. It could work.”

“Emile,” Remy said. “You’re literally saying you would  _ move in with me. _ For no other reason than I can’t afford my own place on part-time minimum wage.”

“That’s not the only reason,” Emile said. “It would help me save on room and board, too. Less student loans for me.”

Remy laughed incredulously. “So, is this it? Is this a thing that we’re doing? You’re going to move in with me? I thought it’d be one of your friends.”

“Well, most of my friends would go home in the summer, when you need the most help,” Emile reasoned. “And besides, do you honestly think you could get along with any of my friends long enough to actually share living space with them? I know that your own roommate bugs you a whole lot, because you spend so much time in my room, where you don’t have to deal with anyone but me. And if we can stand each other most days when we don’t have classes and you don’t have to go to bed, yet, I think we can handle living in a place at a point in time where you’re going to work and I’m going to school  _ and _ going to work. I’ll have to talk to my parents about it, of course, but they aren’t going to say no. They just need to know why my tuition is less than it used to be.”

“So...that’s a yes?” Remy asked.

“Yes,” Emile said with a grin. “You drop out of college, and we move in together.”

Remy whistled under his breath. “Okay, then,” he breathed.


	8. Chapter 8

####  **November 20th, 2000**

“You’re absolutely sure you’ll be okay over Thanksgiving break?” Emile pressed Remy.

Remy rolled his eyes. “Yeah,  _ Mom, _ I’ll be fine,” he said with a little scoff. “I don’t have to talk to my parents about dropping out of college, or moving out of the dorms, and my siblings don’t know either, so they can’t spill the beans. It’ll be five days of sleeping in my parent’s house and wishing they didn’t host Thanksgiving dinner for my family every year so I don’t have to be swamped by my cousins and aunts and uncles. I’ll be fine.”

“If you’re sure...” Emile said. “Just know my parents’ offer stands. They wouldn’t mind feeding five mouths instead of four.”

“I know,” Remy said. “But you don’t have to worry. I’ll be okay. I promise.”

####  **November 23rd, 2000**

“So, let me get this straight,” Emile’s dad asked. “You met a boy in college, became friends with him despite his great reluctance to do so, and found out that he would hurt himself if he continued going to college, so you decided to offer to move in with him, and take on a job so that you can help with rent? And we have to pay less for your tuition because you’ll be living off campus?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” Emile said. “Remy hasn’t dropped out officially, yet, but he’s working through the papers and trying to find a second job to help in addition to Starbucks that means we won’t have to stretch our money as thin.”

“That’s amazing, Emile,” Dad said. “I can only see you doing that sort of thing. But it somehow makes complete sense when it’s you doing it.”

Emile ducked his head and continued to help peel potatoes for the Thanksgiving dinner. “I’m just really worried about Remy, honestly,” he said. “He had to go back to his parents’ for Thanksgiving because we don’t have the apartment yet, and they don’t know that he’s dropping out of college yet.”

“Wait, what? What do you mean, ‘they don’t know’?” Dad asked, placing a hand on Emile’s shoulder.

“I mean they don’t know, Dad,” Emile said. “His parents aren’t very supportive. He was going to college on his own dime, not theirs, because he wanted to go into whatever major he wanted. And he’s told me before that...that his parents favor his siblings over him.”

“What?!” his dad asked.

“He’s said it in passing multiple times, Dad. Even if it’s not true, he genuinely believes it, and based on everything else I’ve heard about his parents, I’m inclined to believe him on this,” Emile said, biting his lip.

“Well why couldn’t you invite him over here, then?” Dad asked.

“I tried!” Emile defended. “I said he was welcome to come home with me if he wanted, but he said he didn’t want to impose, and that his parents were expecting him home anyway. They don’t even know whether or not he has friends at college, Dad. He was worried that they might cut him out of the family if he didn’t go home, because the dorms definitely close over Thanksgiving, and they’d assume he’s gay if he decided to have Thanksgiving with us!”

“Is he gay?” Dad asked.

“Dad...I’m not comfortable sharing his preferences without his permission,” Emile whined in a whisper.

“So, that’s a yes, then,” Dad said knowingly.

“Yes. He’s gay, told me himself. Something tells me he doesn’t care who knows it, but his parents don’t. And I don’t think he’s anywhere near a safe enough spot to tell them,” Emile hissed.

“Tell that boy that if you two don’t have an apartment by Christmas, that he’s welcome over here. Those people sound like horrible family, and his parents ought to be ashamed of what they did to him,” Dad said firmly.

“Thanks, Dad, but we already have the money for a safety deposit and first month’s rent, it’s more a matter of me finding a job after the Christmas rush,” Emile said.

“Should I make a couple calls?” Dad asked.

Emile shook his head. “I don’t think so. It’s going to be a low-level retail-type job that I get, because that’s what I can work with school. No need for you to pull strings if I can’t even take the opportunity to use them.”

“Just remember, all you have to do is say the word,” Dad reminded him. “I’ll put my ear to the ground and see if anyone needs help out there.”

“I know,” Emile said. “Maybe when grad school happens, depending on how many classes I have to take. For now, though, I’m content working at, like, Target or something.”

“Who’s working at Target?” his mother asked from the edge of the kitchen.

“Hey, no, out! We don’t want you burning any of the food!” his dad said, playfully whipping a dishrag at her.

His mother took one step backward until she was out of the doorway to the kitchen, before crossing her arms. “Who’s working at Target?” she repeated.

“Well, it’s one of the places I’ve applied to,” Emile said. “Nothing definite. But...my friend Remy and I are going to be getting our own place off campus, and that’s my way of helping to pay the rent.”

“Oh,” his mother said, surprised. “Would this be the same Remy you told us about at the beginning of the school year?”

“Yeah, the one and the same,” Emile said. “College is killing him, but his parents aren’t nearly as supportive as you guys are, so I’m going to help him with rent on a place so that he doesn’t have to keep going to school.”

“Oh, okay then,” his mother said. “If you ever fall short the money for food or anything like that over the summer, let your father and myself know. We’ll come over armed with half a grocery store.”

Emile laughed. “I hope that won’t happen, but I promise to let you know. And when we can afford a landline, I will call you still. Until then, letters are going to be my new best friend.”

His mother smiled at him. “I really hope this works out for the both of you, Emile.”

“I do too,” Emile said, smiling.

“Now, I’ll go back to talking with your grandfather, you two just make sure that nothing ends up burning.”

“Will do, Mom,” Emile said with a playful salute.

She shook her head fondly and left sight quickly. Dad nudged him. “So, are you going to tell me more about Remy? We only really know his name, at this point.”

“Well, he’s got a pretty hard exterior,” Emile said. “It’s very hard to get past that, honestly. But he’s kinda sweet once you get to know him. I say ‘kinda’ because his parents did a number on him. But I’m slowly teaching him people skills, and he’s actually really good at making conversation, even if he doesn’t always read people correctly. He’s learned to not play off hurt feelings as a joke, by now, which is a huge improvement.”

His dad smiled at him and Emile offered a confused smile back. “What?”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s nothing,” his dad waved off.

“I’m sure it’s not,” Emile said. “What is it?”

“You seem rather fond of him,” he said.

“Well, yeah, he’s my friend,” Emile said, shaking his head as he started to mash the potatoes. “I don’t see your point here.”

“You’re bisexual, Emile,” Dad said. “He’s gay. You’re both in each other’s dating pool. You’re moving in together. Are you two...involved at all?”

“What?” Emile asked.

“There’s no shame in it if you are,” Dad rushed to assure him. “You just appear to be very fond of him.”

“Yeah, like, as a best friend thing, not in an I want to date him thing! I mean, he’s cute, sure, but like...he’s not...he’s not very nice, still. Like, he’s made so many improvements, and I’m proud of him for that, but I don’t think I could be with him the way he is right now,” Emile said. “He’s still mean sometimes. And I know that no one can be nice one-hundred percent of the time, even  _ I’m _ not nice that much. But...I’m mean at maybe ten percent of the time. He’s mean, like, forty percent of the time.”

“Ah. I understand why you don’t like that ratio,” Dad said knowingly. “You always were the type who wouldn’t hang around the mean kids unless you could make them a little less mean.”

“Yeah. And I never dated anyone who didn’t act nice to people they didn’t know, because everyone deserves kindness,” Emile added. “Remy isn’t quite there yet. I like to think he could get there, but he isn’t right now.”

“He most certainly could get there, with you as his teacher, I have no doubt about that,” Dad said. “But he has to want it, first, and that’s the key to getting real progress.”

“I know,” Emile said. “And he doesn’t want it. At least, he doesn’t want any friends outside me. Has too many bad past experiences, apparently.”

Dad sighed. “Those are the hardest ones to gain trust from, Emile. I sincerely hope you never take advantage of the trust this Remy puts in you.”

“I would never dream of it,” Emile said with absolute certainty. “Remy is my friend, and I would never want to hurt him, ever.”

“Good,” Dad said with a nod. “Now, at the same time, you can’t be his therapist all the time, either. He needs a friend, not a clinical perspective. An outside view is healthy in moderation, but you have to make sure there is just that: moderation. It’s crucial to any friendship that you have an agreement that when it comes to priorities, each of you come first in your own respective lists. I know you want to help, Emile, and I know it’s hard to see people self-destruct. But if you’re not in a position to be helping that person without damaging yourself, the both of you will only end up more hurt.”

“I know all this, Dad,” Emile said patiently.

“I know you know it. But a refresher never hurts,” Dad replied easily.

Emile sighed and nodded to show Dad he understood, and they went back to cooking. Emile mashed the potatoes while Dad handled the gravy, and both of them kept one eye on the oven to make sure the turkey was being cooked properly. Emile took the cranberry sauce while Dad handled the corn, and soon enough, they had enough food prepared to feed themselves, Emile’s mom, and his grandfather.

Together, he and his Dad set everything up at the dinner table, and Mom and Grandpa came in as they heard the shuffle of feet and plates. “It looks amazing, as always,” Mom said.

Emile beamed. It wasn’t easy to set everything up for Thanksgiving, but it was worth it. And every year, he was becoming a bolder and better cook.

They sat down, said grace, and started to eat. Conversation was light, mostly about Emile’s time at college, the friends he had met, and his plans for the future. He mentioned that he was planning on moving in with Remy to his grandfather, but wisely chose to leave out the part about Remy’s abuse, and didn’t even  _ touch _ the subject of him being bisexual. As much as he absolutely adored his grandfather, he did have a few...less than savory views on the queer community.

Once dinner was over, Dad and Grandpa went to the living room to watch the football game, while his mother pulled him aside, her face worried. “Emile, can we talk about your friend Remy for a minute?”

“Sure, I guess,” Emile said. “Should we go to my room, or something?”

“Somewhere private is best,” his mother agreed.

They went to his room and Emile sat on his bed, watching his mother pace the length of the room after the door was closed. “Are you certain that you want to move in with this friend, Emile?” she asked.

“Yeah, Mom, I’m sure.”

“You’re not just doing it because you think it will be better than the dorms? You’re aware that you’ll have to pay half the rent and utilities, and maybe even the food that isn’t covered by your meal plan?” Mom clarified.

“No, I’m not trying to escape the dorms, Mom. I’m doing it to help Remy, so that he doesn’t kill himself from overworking and stress. I know I’ll have to work hard over the summer, and even during the school year, to ensure that rent is paid. I know the risks.”

“And you know that Remy will hold up his end of the bargain? He won’t just skip out on you the second he gets the chance?”

“He doesn’t have a choice, Mom. I’m the only option he has if he doesn’t go to college,” Emile said.

Mom looked a little upset but nodded. “If you’re sure, then you have my blessing. Just, be careful, Emile.”

“Always, Mom,” Emile promised.

She left the room and Emile’s cell phone rang. He answered it without a second thought. “Hello?” he asked.

The shaky breathing on the other end of the phone made his hackles rise.  _ “E-Emile...” _ Remy stammered out.  _ “I...I thi-think I need help...” _


	9. Chapter 9

####  **August 4th, 1986**

Remy was as happy as a clam while he worked on sandcastles with Toby at the beach. His parents had decided to take a day trip, and Remy had spent the entire time he got the chance to build sand castles, which were getting more and more intricate. Vanessa was playing in the water, and Mom was reading while Dad dozed in a beach chair. “This is fun!” Remy exclaimed to Toby. “Do you think we can do this again sometime?”

Toby shrugged. “I don’t know. That kinda depends on whether or not Mom and Dad would go for it.”

“What about when we’re older, and Mom and Dad don’t have control over us? Can we go then? Just us?” Remy begged.

A dark look passed over Toby’s face, but as soon as it was there, it was gone. “Mom and Dad will always have control over us to some extent, Remy. The sooner you learn that, the better.”

####  **November 23rd, 2000**

Remy’s breath could only come in gasps as he frantically dialed the number he had accidentally memorized recently from calling it so many times. He waited as the phone rang, and rang, and...  _ “Hello?” _

If Remy could breathe, he would have sobbed in relief. As it was, the words were getting caught in his throat. “E-Emile...” Remy stammered out. “I...I thi-think I need help...”

_ “Remy?” _ Emile’s voice was so filled with concern, Remy cried harder.  _ “Remy, can you explain what happened? What’s wrong?” _

“Th-th-they know, Emile. They...they know. I-I...I slipped up, and they know, and what if they kick me out, Emile, I have no way of getting back to college if they kick me out, I don’t even have a  _ car—” _

_ “Okay, Remy, breathe for me, can you do that?” _ Emile asked.  _ “In for four seconds. Hold for seven seconds. Out for eight seconds. I can do it with you, okay? In, two, three, four...” _

Remy did his best to even out his breathing with the instructions that Emile gave him. When he felt less like he was about to get sick, he whimpered out a, “Thank you...”

_ “It’s not a problem, Rem. Can you tell me what happened?” _ Emile asked, his voice calm and not betraying a single thought that might be running through his mind.

“Va-Va-Vanessa...Vanessa was talking about how she was working after college, and how her Biology degree was getting her places. A-and Toby...Toby was talking about how he was enjoying learning about graphic design. Nate and Magenta were both talking about their senior years of college, they’re twins, so they wound up graduating the same year...But my grandmother and grandfather noticed I was being quiet, and they asked me why, and didn’t I enjoy college. Except...except I could never lie well enough to fool them, Emile, and I said I did, but they didn’t believe me.

“And when my grandfather called me on it, my mom and dad started sending me dirty looks, like they wanted me to behave, except I was  _ trying _ to behave, Emile, you have to believe me! I was trying to be  _ good, _ for once in my miserable life! And I admitted that college wasn’t super fun, and studying business wasn’t super interesting, and that’s when my mom cut in saying she knew that I should have been an accountant, because  _ then _ I would feel ‘fulfilled’ for going to college. And I said that wasn’t it, and she asked me how I could be so sure, and I lost my temper, like an  _ idiot, _ and said that the workload and the pressure and the environment was going to drive me to suicide if I wasn’t careful. And that...that...that was not the right answer, Emile.”

_ “What did she do?” _ Emile asked, and Remy swore he could hear some anger in his best friend’s voice.

“She...she said that I should be more careful, then. Maybe change my major,” Remy spat, voice bitter. “And I asked her if she wanted me dead over me happy. And that stunned the whole table into silence. Toby tried to descelate the whole situation, and Vanessa tried to distract Mom, but it didn’t work, Emile, it didn’t work. Mom stared at me like I had slapped her. Grandmother and grandfather were furious. At me, of course, because I’m the problem in this situation. I lost my temper, I was disrespectful, and I needed to watch my mouth.

“And as if that weren’t enough, then Nate asked me what I planned to do if college was gonna kill me. He asked if I had a backup plan. And Mom repeated the question in a mocking voice. And I snapped that I had a job, I was paying my way through college so I could pay for an apartment and utilities and food with a little help, and that I had found help, so I wasn’t going back to college after the end of the semester.” Remy laughed hollowly. “The one time that I actually had a solid plan for my life that they could be proud of me for, was apparently the one time they didn’t want me to be put together. They wanted me to back down and continue going to college, Emile. They wanted to drive me to  _ suicide! _ How was I supposed to respond?! Don’t I...don’t I have a right to be angry over that?!”

_ “You absolutely do,” _ Emile said.  _ “You have the right to be angry over a lot more than that. You shouldn’t have to ‘watch your mouth’ as you called it. You’re an adult; you have a right to your opinions, to your life choices, to your everything. The fact that they’re trying to dictate your life is cruel and domineering. I don’t approve.” _

Remy wasn’t aware how desperate he was to hear those words until they had actually came through the cell phone’s speaker. He choked on a sob. “So they...they said that I was going to go to my room, and I wasn’t allowed out until I saw that college was ‘the right thing’ for me, or until the end of Thanksgiving break, at which point they’d drive me back to college anyway. They’re trying to kill me, Emile. My parents are trying to kill me.”

There was a knock on Remy’s door and Remy gasped, bolting upright in bed. “Who’s there?!” he hollered.

“Rem, it’s Toby, can I come in?” Toby asked.

“I’m...I’m kinda in the middle of something!” Remy said.

_ “Remy, what’s going on?” _ Emile asked.

“Toby’s at the door,” Remy mumbled.

“Rem, I know you’re on the phone, or else you’re ranting to yourself about what happened, and I know you. You never rant about things that have already happened. I want to talk to you, and to your support system, if you’re willing,” Toby said.

“Are you okay talking to Toby  _ and _ me, Emile? If I put you on speaker and let him in the room?” Remy asked.

_ “Yeah, of course, I’d love to meet your brother,” _ Emile said.

“You can come in!” Remy called through the wood.

Toby walked in and shut the door quietly, walking over to Remy as he put the phone on speaker. “For what it’s worth, Rem? I don’t agree with Mom and Dad in the slightest,” he said, sitting down on the bed next to Remy and giving him a one-armed hug. “Who’s your friend on the phone? The guy you’re going to move in with?”

_ “Yeah, hi, my name’s Emile,” _ Emile said.  _ “I take it you’re Toby? Remy’s spoken highly of you before.” _

Toby laughed, a sweet sound that reminded Remy of the taste of coffee in the fall, as it worked to warm you to the core. Both those things seemed to have the same effect. “I’m flattered,” Toby said. “I wish I could say the same, but Rem here hasn’t spoken much about college at all. Although considering what he said at dinner, I’m hardly surprised.”

“If I said anything about Emile they’d assume he’s my boyfriend,” Remy muttered.

“Is he?” Toby asked.

“No,” Remy said. “Like, he’s cute, and he knows I’m gay, but he’s not my boyfriend. And Mom and Dad would flip if they found out I was gay for real, and it wasn’t just a phase when I kissed James on the playground when we were five.”

“Okay,” Toby said, nodding. “You seemed pretty panicked on the way up here. Was I misreading the situation or did Emile help you calm down?”

“Emile helped me,” Remy said, feeling like he was five years old and hiding from his parents after they were fighting, with Toby helping him stay calm, a rock in a pitching ocean he was stuck alone in.

“Thanks, then, Emile,” Toby said.

_ “Hey, I’m just happy Remy called me. It’s always a relief when he decides he can ask for help with something that’s clearly bugging him,” _ Emile said.

Remy objected with a weak, “Hey,” but Toby just laughed and agreed. “Sorry, baby bro, but you do kinda bottle yourself up and never ask for help, under any circumstances.”

“Not  _ every _ circumstance,” Remy sulked.

“Maybe not every circumstance, but most of them, I’ve found,” Toby said matter-of-factly. “Not that I blame you. Mom and Dad the way they are, you had to learn to rely on yourself a lot faster than you should have.”

Remy grumbled nonsense and buried his head in his knees, still holding his phone up so both he and Toby could hear it.

_ “Rem? Do you want to explain what Toby meant by that? Or is that a conversation for another day?” _

“Let’s table that one for now,” Remy said. “It’s...a very long story.”

_ “All right,” _ Emile said, but he sounded reluctant.  _ “Toby, how likely are your parents to uphold that Remy needs to stay in his room if he decides that he will drop out of college?” _

“Oh, they’ll uphold it,” Toby growled. “I tried to talk them out of it, but no dice. I at least got him bathroom privileges.”

Remy groaned.

_ “Well, then I suggest we come up with a plan of attack,” _ Emile said.  _ “Rem, how well can you lie to your parents?” _

“Well enough, usually,” Remy said. “Why?”

_ “Tell them you plan on going back to college, at least until the end of freshman year. That’ll get you a free ride back to town. Then, once you’re here, we move all our stuff into the apartment we’re renting, you drop out, and you never have to speak to your parents again,” _ Emile said.  _ “Obviously, you  _ can _ talk to them later down the line, but no one will force you to. Toby, I hope you won’t force him to?” _

“Nah,” Toby said. “Rem’s been through too much crap. Vanessa and I too, but Rem got neglected as well as manipulated because our parents seemed to forget he existed. I won’t make him talk to them. Ever.”

_ “Good,” _ Emile said, and Remy got the sense that Toby had just passed some silent test.

“I have a question,” Remy said, resting his head on his knees but not burying it again. “What happens if they don’t believe me? I don’t want to be stuck without food for the rest of the long weekend.”

“I’ll smuggle food up to you if you need, but I don’t think you’ll need it,” Toby said. “Even if you can’t convince our grandparents you changed your mind, you can convince our parents once our grandparents leave. Tomorrow morning you can come out and give the spiel, and you’ll be good to go for the rest of the weekend.”

“Promise you won’t tell them about this conversation?” Remy asked.

“Remy, the only way I would tell them about one of our private conversations is if you were about to hurt yourself. Even then, I might not, because they might not react well. I’d just get you somewhere safe myself. Believe me, I won’t tell our parents,” Toby said.

Remy smiled. “You’re the real MVP, Toby.”

Toby just laughed in response. “Do you want me to write to you again?”

“Sure, when I get the new address I can call you, or write you, or do  _ something _ to let you know, sound good?” Remy asked.

“Sounds like a good plan, yeah,” Toby agreed.

Emile cleared his throat over the line and Remy jumped. “Sorry, Emile, I forgot you were there for a sec.”

_ “Don’t worry about it,” _ Emile said.  _ “Do you need me still, or should I go?” _

“I think I’ll be okay the rest of the night, Emile. Thank you for metaphorically talking me down off that ledge,” Remy said.

_ “It’s my pleasure, Remy. So long as I know I can help, I want to,” _ Emile said.

Remy huffed a laugh and said, “You’re too nice.”

Emile retorted with his usual response.  _ “You’re too cynical. Talk soon?” _

“Yeah, talk soon,” Remy agreed, hanging up. He turned to Toby. “Thanks, by the way. You’ve been a better big brother than I could have ever asked for.”

Toby just offered Remy a grin. “Well, duh. I’m pretty great, after all.”

Remy laughed and shoved Toby’s shoulder. “Shut up!”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning for hospitals in the introduction

####  **April 16th, 2000**

Emile sat outside the hospital room, tears drying on his cheeks. He had used them all up, waiting to see if Alex would wake up. “Come on, Alex, please,” Emile murmured. “I’ve lost too many friends already, I don’t want to lose you too.”

Alex’s parents came over to him and they had a brief chat, mostly them thanking him for visiting Alex when he did, because otherwise...well, none of them wanted to think about what could have happened.

It stung when Alex was finally awake and Emile was immediately yelled out of the room. He had just wanted to make sure Alex was okay! He had lost too many friends to suicide that year already, he didn’t want to lose another! Still, he just hoped Alex would recover. Even if they never spoke again, Emile was just glad Alex was alive.

####  **November 27th, 2000**

Emile felt relief flood through him as he was sitting on the outside steps of the dorms and found Remy getting out of a small sedan, looking none the worse for wear. “Rem!” Emile exclaimed, running over and hugging him. In an instant, he was holding Remy at arms length to poke and prod at him. “Are you hurt? Did they do anything to you?”

“Emile! Emile, I’m fine!” Remy exclaimed, swatting Emile’s hands away and huffing. “No need to mother hen me!”

It was then that Emile noticed the car was still parked, and Remy’s parents looking out the window. Emile pointed and said, “Are those your parents?”

Remy sighed. “Yeah. You want to meet them?”

“No, I’m okay,” Emile said. His voice dropped to a murmur as he said, “They’re making sure you call off the apartment?”

“Yeah,” Remy said at normal volume. “About the whole apartment thing...I’m not sure if I want to go through with it anymore. At least, not right now, you know? Maybe sophomore year, if we don’t have to live on campus.”

“Aw, you sure?” Emile asked. “Because if it’s a matter of rent, I got a call back from Target for an interview...”

“No, it’s not rent. I just think I want to give it until the end of freshman year,” Remy said, and Emile could see how pained he was saying those words. “You know, see if college really might be better if I...if I changed my major.”

Emile blinked and several different swears came to his mind as he realized that Remy's parents must have pressured him into doing just that if he came back. “Well, you’ve been taking general education stuff, so you don’t have to worry about not having the wrong credits,” he improvised. “What do you think your new major will be?”

Remy’s mother wasn’t remotely discreet as she looked out the window of the car, but Remy was standing just so, meaning she couldn’t see the absolute pain and heartbreak on his face as he said, “I was thinking accounting.”

Emile nodded. “Well, that certainly seems like something you would find a stable job in,” he said. “Do you want to hang out for a bit?”

“Sure. Your dorm or mine?”

“How about mine?” Emile asked.

Remy’s shoulders sagged with relief and he nodded. “Thanks for being understanding about the apartment,” he said, as they walked through the front doors to the dorms.

As soon as the door was closed and Remy’s parents were gone, Remy’s legs buckled and his eyes were filling up with tears. “I hate them,” he whispered. “I hate them I hate them I hate them.”

“Frankly? I don’t blame you,” Emile said. “Come on, let’s go to my dorm.”

Remy let himself be led to Emile’s dorm, and when they were finally there, Remy broke down crying. “They said I had to change my major if I came back, Emile,” he said. “Because clearly I wasn’t going to go anywhere with a business major. I wasn’t ‘grateful enough’ for the chance to go to college.”

“That’s bull,” Emile said. “Deciding that college isn’t for you doesn’t mean that you’re ungrateful. And who cares whether you’re grateful or not anyway? It’s not like  _ they’re _ paying for it or anything!”

Remy shook as he collapsed onto the free bed in the room. “They...they’re trying to kill me Emile. I don’t know if they understand that, but they are. And you know what? They’d blame me for that too, if I went off and killed myself.”

Emile gently placed a hand on Remy’s shoulder and said with absolute firmness, “Good thing you’re a convincing liar, then.”

Remy offered a small smile. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Emile smiled back. “You know, I wasn’t lying about Target calling me back for an interview. I may get a job, one of their long-term workers is going on maternity leave and they’ll need someone who’s willing to work odd hours, because she did stocking. And I’m perfectly okay getting up in the middle of the night to go to work, so long as it gets us rent and I don’t fall asleep in class.”

“What makes you so sure that they won’t just keep on one of the holiday workers, instead?” Remy asked.

“Well, I don’t know if they’d rather keep one of the holiday workers, but I have wicked interview skills, I kinda doubt that most of the holiday workers would even expect to be held on to after the rush. And if they don’t even work like their job depends on it, that just increases my chances,” Emile said.

Remy blinked. “You’re relying on others’ poor work ethic to get a job?” he asked.

“Well, yeah,” Emile said with a shrug. “I was only ever a lifeguard before. I don’t exactly have a full resumé that they can look through.”

“That’s not a very solid plan,” Remy warned.

“I know,” Emile said. “But it’s the best plan I have.”

Remy sighed and ran his hands down his face. “Maybe this was a bad idea,” he mumbled. “Maybe I should just listen to my parents.”

“No,” Emile said. “No, don’t say that, Remy.”

“Why not? They’ll always try and control my life. Even if I try to leave them, they’ll always haunt me. What’s the use in trying if you can’t even get rid of what’s bothering you?”

“Remy, don’t say that, please,” Emile all but begged. His hands were shaking at his sides. He couldn’t lose another friend. Not again. Not again. He didn’t want to say goodbye.

“It’s true, though!” Remy exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. “They’re never going to leave me alone! Not unless they don’t know where I live! And the only way they wouldn’t know that is if I cut off all communication with  _ all _ of my family! Including Vanessa, including Toby! And I don’t want to stop talking to Toby! But if I keep talking to him, my parents are going to find out where I live somehow, and I! Can’t! Live! Like! This!”

Emile grabbed Remy’s hands in a desperate attempt to grab Remy’s attention. “Remy, please,” Emile begged. “Please, please. We’ll figure out a way to keep you safe. You won’t have to deal with your parents but you can talk to your brother if you want to. We’ll find a way.  _ I’ll _ find a way. Just, please. Please don’t talk like there’s no hope.”

Remy yanked his hands free of Emile’s grip. “Emile, I know you’re attached to me, but you really shouldn’t be. I’m broken, I have too much baggage. It would be easier for all of us if you stopped talking to me and I did something drastic.”

Emile shook his head. “No. No, I will not let you hurt yourself, Remy. And if you insist on trying to bash your brains in or jump off a building, then I’m going to send you to the local hospital.”

“I don’t need ‘help,’ Emile!” Remy snapped.

“Yes you  _ do!” _ Emile shouted back.

The whole room fell dead silent. It seemed like the world had stopped. Emile couldn’t be bothered to care. Tears were streaming down his face. Remy was glaring at him. “No. I don’t,” Remy’s voice was soft, but deadly. “And if you say I do again, then I’m calling off the move.”

Emile’s breath was ragged. “Fine. I won’t say you need help,” Emile said. “But I will say that most people don’t consider themselves broken. Most people don’t have that sort of baggage that you have. Most people don’t have their parents trying to control every last aspect of their life. Most people aren’t  _ suicidal. _ Because that’s what you are, Remy. You think you’re better off dead. Even if you don’t have a plan, you’re suicidal. And...and I don’t want to lose another friend. Not again. So maybe you don’t need help. Maybe you can struggle on your own. But how much longer will you muddle through until you break? Until you decide that being dead has every benefit and being alive has none? Until you actually try to kill yourself?! Maybe you don’t need help, which I disagree with, but for the sake of your argument let’s go along with it. If you don’t need help, but you were  _ offered _ help, offered a chance to let go of some of that baggage, offered a way to lighten your load, wouldn’t you  _ want _ that? Wouldn’t you  _ want _ to feel better?”

Remy stared at Emile a long, long time. Emile thought that Remy was finally seeing Emile’s point. Maybe he’d agree. Maybe he’d say he would at least try. Maybe he would at least back down off the ledge again. But maybes weren’t anything to base hope on. “How do I know that I’d still be me?” Remy asked. “If they pump me full of meds and make me talk about my feelings, I’ll just be a zombie. Being hurt is better than being nothing.”

Emile ran his hands through his hair. “Are you genuinely that thick?! Do you not understand what you’re doing here?! You’re killing yourself, Rem! You say college is going to kill you! You and I make a plan to fix that, at least so that you can stick around a little while longer, and then your parents come into the equation and mess everything up! You don’t have to deal with your parents if you don’t want to! Tell them a false address, tell them that you don’t want to see them ever again and kick them out, hell, file a restraining order! You don’t have to go through medication and therapy, not if you’re not ready, so long as you take the stressor out of the equation! And for the record, medication that works correctly won’t make you feel like a zombie, it’ll make you feel like a healthy person! Which, if you ask me, is way better than being hurt! You say your parents and college are trying to kill you? Well, you’re doing it to yourself as well! How can you not see that?!”

Remy stared at Emile with such betrayal in his eyes that Emile was pretty sure Remy might launch himself out of the window there and then. “I don’t need a therapist,” Remy said. “And I don’t need medication.”

“For crying out loud, Remy,” Emile said, running his hands through his hair. “You’re a classic case of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder! PTSD! Do you know what PTSD is?”

“It’s that thing that soldiers get from war. But I’m not a soldier,” Remy said.

“No, but based on what I’ve gathered from your life, you grew up in a war zone,” Emile ground out. “Your parents are not good people. You have every right to hate them. But don’t let them dictate your life. If you keep repeating their rhetoric about how you don’t need a therapist, how you don’t need meds, how you’re too strong and that those things are a sign of weakness, you’re letting them win. Spite them. Admit that you sometimes need help. Maybe don’t get meds and a therapist. Maybe only get one or the other. But don’t let yourself waste away because of something said by the very people you hate in the first place.”

Remy stared at Emile again. “You genuinely care,” Remy said, sounding almost...mystified.

“Yes, Remy, I do,” Emile said.

“Why?” Remy asked.

“Because you’re my friend, idiot. I want to see you happy. Friends want to see their friends happy, and want to make sure they’re safe, and living well.” Emile shook his head. “But I’ll tell you this: no matter if you’re my friend or not, I have to take care of my own mental health first. And if you refuse help, you know what’s going to happen?”

“What?” Remy asked, tilting his chin up.

“Then I’ll cut you off,” Emile said. “If you’re going to hurt yourself, and me in the process, then we can’t be friends anymore. That’s the way this works. I’m my first priority. You should be your first priority. And because  _ I’m _ my first priority, and you aren’t, then if you’re going to hurt me I won’t be able to handle you.”

Remy blinked. “You serious?” he asked. “You would...leave me out to dry?”

“You’d be doing that to yourself,” Emile said. “I’ve given you plenty of opportunities to get help. You’ve turned every last one of them down. Get help, or at least get rid of your parents. If not, and you keep spiralling, I won’t be able to catch you. You’ll hit rock bottom and have to climb your way back up on your own.”

Remy stared at Emile long and hard. Emile met his gaze. Slowly, Remy’s eyes drifted away and he sighed. “Do you know any shrinks around here who deal with that...PTS-whatever thing you talked about?”

“As a matter of fact, I have found a few from studying psychology and asking around about resources,” Emile said. “Would you want a list of different people you can try?”

“...Yeah,” Remy said. “If it means I can still be friends with you, then yeah.”


	11. Chapter 11

####  **October 8th, 1996**

“Remy? Remy, I know you’re in there,” Toby said, knocking on Remy’s closet door.

Remy just shoved a fist against his mouth, forcibly holding back the massive sobs that threatened to break loose. “Go away!” he choked out.

“No,” Toby said. “Listen, Rem, what those kids did was scummy. It’s not fair by anyone’s standards. If you told someone, maybe—”

“No one listens to me,” Remy said. “They all say I need to ‘walk it off.’ Well, I’m  _ tired _ of walking it off! No one asks me if what everyone else does is hurting me, they don’t care! All they care about is that the school’s precious reputation remain unscathed.”

“Remy...” A beat. Toby sighed. “Would you be willing to come out to play a couple video games? No talking, just playing.”

With a grunt, Remy stood in his closet and pushed the door open. “Can we please play on the  _ Genesis?” _ he asked.

“Yeah, whatever you want on the  _ Genesis _ is fair game, buddy,” Toby said, wrapping a reassuring arm around Remy’s shoulders as he guided Remy out of the closet.

####  **December 13th, 2000**

Remy sat in the waiting room with his right leg bouncing like a jackrabbit. He didn’t like this, but he knew he had to do it if he wanted to stay Emile’s friend. That was the only reason he hadn’t left the office yet. The thought of therapy still made him tense up, but at least he could stay Emile’s friend, and they could continue the process of moving in together.

When the woman came out of the office and said in a soft voice, “Remy?” he stood, even though that was the last thing he wanted to do.

She smiled at him and Remy shifted where he stood. “My name is Kim. Why don’t we talk in my office?”

“I...okay,” Remy said, following her inside.

“Take a seat wherever you like,” she said, gesturing to the couch and chairs scattered around the small space.

Remy sat down in a corner on the couch and Kim sat across from him with a clipboard. “Now, usually I don’t write things down during sessions, but in order to get to know you, and keep some information on you, I’ll need to write a few things down. Nothing serious, just general background information,” Kim assured him. “I keep any notes in future sessions vague enough that even  _ if _ your information was subpoenaed, they wouldn’t learn much of anything from it.”

“Okay,” Remy said. It didn’t help him relax much, but he supposed that in the future it would be good to know that his deepest, darkest secrets couldn’t be seen by police for any reason.

“Now, basic things. I know your name, date of birth, insurance, and all that, but I want to know a bit more about your background that doesn’t come with all the insurance claims,” Kim said. “Can you tell me about your family?”

Remy stiffened. “Well, they’re kinda why I’m here. My roommate insisted I try this, but it’s  _ because _ of my family. I don’t really...like talking about them.”

“Well, let’s start with some easy questions then, nothing too deep. Mom and Dad together or separated?”

“Together,” Remy said.

“Any siblings?”

“Two, an older sister and brother. I’m the youngest,” Remy said, relaxing a little. These questions were easy to answer, it wasn’t nearly as bad as he expected it to be.

“Any history of alcohol or drug abuse, in you or your family?”

“Never,” Remy answered.

“Okay,” Kim said, writing a few things down on her clipboard. “Let’s move on.”

“Okay?” Remy didn’t know what to expect, and he tensed up again.

“Have you ever been to a therapist before?” Kim asked.

“Uh, no. I’ve never really thought I needed...one...” Remy cleared his throat, looking away.

“So why are you here, today, if you think you’re fine?” Kim asked.

“My roommate, he...uh...disagrees. About me being fine. He’s a psych major in college, and he says he recognizes symptoms of PTSD in me. He also says I’m suicidal,” Remy said. “Which, I disagree. I’m not about to go and jump off a building. I just wish that I could...not exist sometimes.”

“Your roommate is very perceptive, then. I can see certain signs that may point to PTSD, but of course I’ve known you all of five minutes. Wanting to not exist is a sign of suicidal ideation, it’s typically the first step in the process. Not enough to send you to the hospital, unless you believe you are going to harm or kill yourself between now and the next time we meet?” Kim asked.

Remy mutely shook his head.

“Then we won’t be sending you there,” Kim said, continuing to write. “What do you think the problem you’d like to solve in therapy is? You’ve said your roommate’s view, what about your own?”

“I...I mean, everything’s fine,” Remy said, sitting on his hands. “I’m dropping out of college so I feel less depressed, I have a steady job to help with rent, I don’t have any reason to come here, I don’t think. Life’s...life’s good.”

“Life may be good, but how do you feel? Do you  _ feel _ good? Do you feel like your life is going in the right direction?” Kim asked.

Remy looked around the room, desperate for an escape, but he couldn’t see one. He didn’t know how to trust this woman who he had just met, but he knew that if Emile were here, he would want Remy to be honest. “I...I don’t know what to feel,” he admitted. “There’s...just...so much...and I can’t handle it all, at least, not on my own, but then Emile said he would stop helping me if I didn’t come here, and...and I need his help. So here I am.”

Kim kept writing and nodding. “I think then, that most of our treatment at the start will be helping you to identify and process your emotions. Beyond that, though, is there a long-term goal you’d like out of therapy?”

The words were out of Remy’s mouth before he could stop them. “Make me feel like a normal human being for once?”

Kim’s writing stilled, and she looked up at him. “What do you mean by that?”

Remy was shaking, and he stammered out, “I-I-I...I guess I-I don’t...I don’t know...”

“Well, what is a ‘normal human being’ to you?” Kim asked.

“Someone who isn’t scared to make friends,” Remy said with a shrug. “Someone who doesn’t wake up in the middle of the night from a noise that they can’t identify. Someone who can smile and actually mean it most of the time. Someone who just...who just acts normal, you know? Someone who’s not scared.”

Kim put her pencil down. “Remy, based on what you just told me, I think you realize on some level that you do have symptoms of Post-Traumatic Stress. You recognize that your responses aren’t the norm for most people, and these responses are generally distressing to you. We can work on helping you process these feelings and others, but you’ll need to place some trust in me, and acknowledge that you’re safe here.”

Remy took a shaky breath. “That...that could take a while,” he admitted.

“I’m willing to wait as long as needed,” Kim said. “No matter how long it takes for you to trust me with the bigger things, I am willing to wait and help you tackle smaller problems in the meantime.”

“Okay,” Remy said.

They talked for the rest of the forty-five minutes, mostly about Remy’s mood as of late and how the move was going. Remy didn’t truly relax until the time was up and he left the office to find Emile in the waiting room, reading a magazine. He looked up with a smile. “Hey. Everything go okay?” he asked.

“Y-yeah,” Remy said. “I think so.”

Kim retreated to her office as Emile and Remy walked outside to Emile’s car. Snow was starting to drift down from the sky. Remy looked up and sighed. “I’m still not sure about this whole thing, Emile.”

“But you’re trying, and that’s what counts,” Emile said, sending Remy a smile. “And I’m really relieved that you’re trying.”

“I still don’t know, Emile...it just takes...”

“Time?” Emile asked.

“Trust,” Remy said. “It takes a lot of trust that I don’t have in her. I trust  _ you.” _

“I’m not a licensed therapist, not yet,” Emile said. “And even if I were, I wouldn’t be able to have you as a client.”

They got in Emile’s car and Remy attempted to warm his hands as Emile got on the road to their apartment. “But it’s...I mean, she just...I don’t  _ know her, _ Emile!”

“Remy, that’s the  _ point,” _ Emile said. “She’s there to hear what you have to say, and to offer you new perspectives on how you perceive the world around you. If she knew you, like, really  _ knew you, _ personally, she wouldn’t be able to offer you an objective view.”

“I told her I wanted to feel like a normal person,” Remy admitted. “I didn’t want to, it just sorta...happened. And she said she was willing to wait until I was comfortable around her to go into what my parents did, but...I don’t want to. I don’t  _ need _ to. I don’t  _ need _ a therapist.”

“No, you don’t need a therapist,” Emile agreed. “You need the tools that will allow you to process the emotions you’ve bottled up all these years that will sometimes overflow and cause you to self-destruct. You know who will teach you those tools? A therapist.”

“Emile,” Remy whined. “I don’t feel  _ safe _ talking about what happened all those years. No one who I told ever believed me before I told you.”

“Well, then Kim will help you feel safe, and  _ then _ she can help you with your trauma. This is what therapists  _ do, _ Rem. Give her a chance to do her job. You might be surprised with the results.”

Remy sighed. “I just...I want to talk to  _ you, _ Emile. Not a stranger. I want to talk to you.”

“You can still talk to me, Rem,” Emile said. “But you can’t use me as your therapist. That requires an  _ actual _ therapist, who, I will repeat,  _ doesn’t know you personally. _ That’s what the whole point of therapy is.”

“Emile! You’re not listening to me!” Remy exclaimed.

“I’m listening to you fine, Remy. I’m just not giving you the answer you want. And no, that answer will not change,” Emile said, pulling into the parking lot of their apartment complex.

Remy huffed and got out of the car, following Emile inside. “Why? Why won’t you help me?”

Emile turned and stared Remy dead in the eye as they walked inside their sparsely furnished apartment. “Do you really want to know the answer to that question, Remy? Do you  _ really _ want to know why I can’t be your therapist, outside the fact that I’m not licensed?”

Remy nodded.

Emile took a breath. “Okay. You? Telling me that stuff about your past? Hurts me badly. There isn’t a night that goes by after you’ve told me a deep, dark secret that I can sleep easily. You trusting me is great. It’s fantastic. I’m honored, and I would never break that trust. But it still hurts. Because I know you. I want to help you. I want to go back in time and change the past so you never have to deal with what you did. But I can’t. And that kills me. I’ve been learning how to distance myself from clients, for whenever I can start seeing people, but that’s the thing. You’re not a client. You’re my friend. I’m already attached. And I don’t want to distance myself. But it hurts me to hear about all the things you’ve been through. So to keep my sanity intact and hopefully restore some of yours, I’m having you see a therapist. It doesn’t even have to be Kim, if you think she’s a bad fit. You just need to see  _ someone.” _

Remy was stunned into silence. “I...I hurt you?” he asked softly.

Emile nodded. “It hurts knowing what you went through, and knowing that every time someone brings something up that triggers a memory, you’re just going through it again. Not badly enough for me to show it, and not badly enough for me to see a therapist myself. At least, not yet. But I know my limits when it comes to someone confiding in me. And Rem, you’ve been toeing those limits since Thanksgiving.”

Remy felt like he might cry. “I didn’t mean to...”

“Ssh, I know, I know,” Emile said hugging Remy close. “I know you didn’t. But that’s why I’m getting you a therapist. Because you need a healthy release. And I need to be there for you in other ways.”

Remy clung to Emile like a liferaft. He couldn’t remember the last time he had cried over hurting another person; he had taught himself to not care in highschool when the bullies got meaner, and he had to fight back. Caring enough to cry wasn’t a pleasant feeling in the slightest. But he hoped it was a good sign. After all, if he felt remorse for hurting other people, maybe he would do it less, and he could see if any of Emile’s friends would be willing to get closer to him. Maybe he could expand his support system. Maybe he could get more help.

Maybe he could learn how to  _ ask _ for help in the first place.


	12. Chapter 12

####  **May 3rd, 1993**

It was Emile’s birthday, but all he could do was sit on his bed and cry. His heart hurt, because one of his friends was sick, and wasn’t getting better anytime soon. And Emile was worrying  _ himself _ sick worrying over her. When there was a knock at Emile’s door he went over to open it, finding his dad on the other side. “What’s wrong, Emile?” Dad asked.

“You know what’s wrong,” Emile said. “She’s not getting better. If the fever doesn’t go down, they’re gonna take her to the hospital.”

“And she’ll get the treatment she needs there,” Dad said. “Emile, you can’t worry yourself sick over every friend you have, or you’d never feel okay.”

“But—”

“No but’s,” Dad said. “You have to be your first priority, Emile. You can’t put other people’s health over your own, not when it’ll hurt both of you in the long run.”

“She’s really sick, Dad,” Emile sniffled.

“But she’ll get better,” Dad said. “And in the meantime, you have to take care of yourself. Stop obsessing over whether or not she’ll be okay. Enjoy yourself, and don’t feel guilty for it. You should  _ always _ be your first priority, Emile, never forget that.”

####  **December 14th, 2000**

Emile was working on making breakfast in the kitchen when he heard Remy stumble out of his bedroom with a groan. He inwardly shook his head with a laugh. Remy was definitely not a morning person; at least not when he stayed up late. And he didn’t know how late Remy was up last night, but judging how Remy immediately gravitated towards the coffee machine, it was a late one. “How bad?” Emile asked.

Remy grunted as he leaned against the kitchen counter, observing the coffee pot.

“Wow, that bad huh?” Emile laughed, finishing spreading cream cheese on his bagel as he moved to the refrigerator to grab some milk.

Remy didn’t acknowledge anything else until the coffee pot had finished filling with Remy’s magic elixir, at which point Remy immediately poured a cup and drank half of it in one go.

“Oh. Worse than I thought,” Emile said. “You good, Rem?”

“Mm,” Remy hummed. “Couldn’t stop thinking.”

“About?” Emile prompted.

Remy sighed, turning to the coffee pot. “Need more coffee.”

“For the conversation, or to function?” Emile asked.

“Yeah,” Remy said, pouring more coffee into his cup.

“Geez, Rem, how late did you stay up?” Emile asked.

All Emile got in response to that was a finger as Remy drained his cup of coffee. He gasped when he finally came up for air. “Okay,” Remy said. “The first buzz should be hitting shortly. Once it does, we can talk.”

“You’re a disaster, Rem,” Emile said with a shake of his head. “But yeah, I’ve only got afternoon classes today, and I haven’t heard back after my interview yet.”

Remy grunted and went to their small cupboards, looking for something to eat. Emile knew that Remy hadn’t been going to as many of his classes, especially not after midterms, in order to pick up more shifts to help pay for rent. But Emile could have sworn that sometime soon, something important was supposed to happen in one of Remy’s classes. Could that be what was keeping him up late?

Emile shook his head and walked into their small shared space in the apartment, currently being occupied by cardboard boxes to serve as a table. He sat on the floor and put his breakfast and milk on the boxes. The bedrooms had come with beds, which Emile was thankful for, but he wished that the entire apartment had come furnished, sometimes, even if it would have been more expensive. Sitting on the floor all the time just wasn’t gonna cut it.

Remy collapsed on the floor next to him, stuffing a granola bar in his mouth. Emile tried to brush Remy’s hair with his fingers, but Remy had so many cowlicks it wasn’t even funny. Emile wondered how much hair gel Remy used to keep his hair in place on bad hair days like these.

When Remy swallowed the last of the granola bar, he kept his eyes trained on the table as he said, “I was up until almost four in the morning.”

“I...why?!” Emile asked. “It wasn’t for classes, was it?”

Remy shook his head. “I just...couldn’t sleep. I don’t really know what I was feeling, but it wasn’t pleasant.”

“Were you happy? Sad? Angry? Confused?” Emile gently asked.

“All of those, save happy, rolled into one, I guess,” Remy said, brows knitting together, even though all the while he never looked at Emile. “I just...couldn’t stop thinking. About last night.”

“About therapy?” Emile asked. “Because if you don’t think that Kim is a good fit, we can find someone else...”

“Not about therapy,” Remy said. “I couldn’t stop thinking about...about...how you said...said that I...hurt you.”

Emile blinked. He couldn’t think of anything to say, really. He had told the truth, and he knew Remy hated it when he sugarcoated things. But clearly, this was affecting Remy differently. And judging by the way Remy couldn’t even look Emile in the eye, he was pretty sure the effect was a negative one. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Remy choked on a laugh. “I thought you didn’t want to be my therapist.”

“I don’t. But I want to be your friend. And if you trust friends enough, you can tell them your secrets. You just can’t unload everything on them and expect them to magically fix it,” Emile said. “So. I’ll ask you again. Do you want to talk about it?”

“...I cried,” Remy admitted. “I’ve been crying a lot lately, and I don’t know where it’s come from. The last time I cried like I did last night, I was in the ninth grade and someone who I thought was my best friend exposed me to the whole school for brownie points from the popular kids. I felt the same level of hurt as I did then. But...the hurt wasn’t directed at you.”

Emile frowned. “Who or what was it directed at?”

“Myself,” Remy said. “I just...I got so angry with myself, because the last thing in the world I wanted to do was...was hurt you. You’re my best friend. I hadn’t had a best friend in years, unless you count Toby, and neither of us were very touchy-feely, even then. And then I got sad, because I had done all of this, and you never spoke up about it. And what if that meant I made it feel like you  _ couldn’t _ speak up about it? I’d played off hurt as a joke one too many times before, you wouldn’t know that I had realized that was wrong unless I genuinely apologized and told you I realized it was wrong. And! On top of that! I was super confused, because why should I care, right? The whole point of me pushing everyone away was that I didn’t care. But I realized last night...I do care.

“I care about you, and I care about your friends, and in order to convince myself I don’t care, I make them hate me so caring about them feels pointless. But it doesn’t work. And...and I can’t believe I’m saying this, but at least right now, I  _ do _ need a therapist. Like, don’t get me wrong. I don’t like shrinks. I get uneasy when someone literally has been trained to pick your brain apart, but I need that as part of my support, and I need support beyond you and the therapist, too, because I only see her once a week, maybe, and I can’t just go to you the rest of the time, because I don’t want you to burn out, and I realized I need to have some of my own friends, even if they’re also your friends, because they could be part of a support network too, and obviously I can help them, friendship isn’t just a one way street, right? And I mean—”

Emile cut Remy off with a hand over his mouth. “Remy, slow down, I can barely understand you when you’re talking that fast. And please, end your sentences with a period once in a while, you need to breathe.”

Remy stopped mumbling into Emile’s hand and Emile let his hand drop. Remy took a deep breath. “I...I really don’t want to hurt you, Emile. And I’m super sorry that I did. And...I’m willing to do what it takes to make sure that it doesn’t happen again.”

Emile sat there in silent shock. Clearly, he had misjudged how much progress Remy had made over the past couple months. He genuinely cared about Emile. And while he might not care for others, not yet, he wanted to learn. And Emile felt a swell of affection and pride at that realization. “It won’t be easy,” Emile warned. “If you want me to call you out whenever you make a bad comment, it’ll happen frequently, possibly enough for you to get defensive. The key is to put that defensiveness aside and  _ listen _ to what the other person is telling you, when they say that behavior is unacceptable.”

“Yeah...I...I figured. I’m not exactly good at reading a room, unless it’s to figure out how to make people hate me,” Remy said, scratching the back of his neck.

“And you’re willing to put in the work to change that? You genuinely want this?” Emile asked.

“I...yeah. I want to have friends again,” Remy’s voice was small, and soft, and fragile, and it broke Emile’s heart to hear it.

“Good. Then I can be your tutor,” Emile said. “We can hang out on campus if you want, or drive around town, or do whatever. But know that if you do something that I don’t think is kind, I’ll call you out. In front of whoever’s there. Not to shame you, but so you know that isn’t okay, and the people around you know you’re trying to learn.”

Remy nodded. “I don’t like the thought of that,” he admitted. “But if that’s what I need to do to get better, then I’ll do it.”

The swell of affection hadn’t dimmed in Emile’s chest any, and he smiled softly at Remy. “Thank you for being willing to try,” he said. “I know you won’t know how to do everything right off the bat, and I’m willing to go over things with you if you need or want an explanation. But the fact that you’re trying at all is a good sign. I’m proud of you for that.”

Remy’s eyes widened and they snapped up to meet Emile’s gaze. “You’re...what?” he asked softly.

“I’m proud of you,” Emile said. “Haven’t you ever had someone be proud of you before?”

“Maybe when I was really little,” Remy said. “Never once I grew past, like, seven. No one ever told me they were proud of me, unless I asked, and even then, it felt forced, or like they didn’t want me to prompt them.”

“You know, there are days where I’d love to strangle a majority of your family,” Emile said matter-of-factly.

Remy blinked. “That may be the first aggressive thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

“And what’s more, it’s true,” Emile said with a bitter smile. He stood. “I’m getting dressed, and when I’m done and you’re out of your pajamas, we can figure out what to do today, sound good?”

“Don’t you have DnD tonight?” Remy asked.

“That’s tonight,” Emile said. “I’m free until my afternoon classes. And after that, we can always have dinner together.”

Remy did a double take. “You know, you keep talking like that, people will start to think that we’re dating,” he said.

Emile shrugged. “Eh, I don’t have a problem with people knowing I’m bisexual. You don’t seem to have a problem with people knowing you’re gay. If people ask if we’re dating, we can just be honest and say no. Unless, of course, you need to get any creeps off your back, in which case I will happily play your fake boyfriend until they leave.”

“You’re too good to have me as your friend,” Remy said, waving Emile off to his room. “I don’t know why you chose me as a friend, but I’m glad you did.”

“Me too,” Emile said with a smile, going to his room and getting dressed.

As he picked out what shirt he wanted to wear, he was left wondering why Remy brought that up. Having dinner together was something friends did all the time. And it wasn’t like that phrasing was dating-exclusive. He didn’t understand why Remy felt that needed to be pointed out. Who cared if people thought they were together? So long as Emile and Remy knew the truth and no one tried to hurt them, where was the harm in it?

“One of life’s greatest mysteries,” Emile chuckled to himself. “The enigma that is Remy Picani, with his best friend Emile Thomas.”

In all seriousness, though, he did wonder. He wouldn’t ask Remy about that right away, not after Remy had opened up to him so much already this morning. It wouldn’t be fair to him. Maybe another day, he decided. He walked out of his room to find Remy wearing that same leather jacket he had gotten recently and refused to take off whenever they went out. Emile laughed. “Where to?” he asked.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for alcohol

####  **June 13th, 1998**

“You need a  _ real _ job, Remy,” his mother told him, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

Remy felt crushed. He had just gotten his first job as a barista at a local coffee shop, shouldn’t Mom be happy for him? “This is who was hiring, Mom,” he said. “No one wants a summer intern who’s not even out of high school.”

“Well, I suppose it’ll do for now,” Mom said. “But you can’t expect to do that forever.”

“I know,” Remy said, nodding. “But this is a good start. It’s something to put on my resumé and it’ll give me a little cash to spend, so I don’t have to ask you and Dad for a loan.”

That worked just like Remy hoped it would, and his mother nodded in approval at him. “Good for you, then,” she said with a smile. “This is a big step for you.”

“Thanks,” he said with a smile, even as he thought,  _ Why couldn’t you see that in the first place? _

####  **December 16th, 2000**

“It’s official!” Remy exclaimed, walking up to Emile and hugging him. “I dropped out of college!”

Emile laughed and hugged Remy back. “Now that you’re not going to school, what will you be doing?” Emile asked.

“I’m working at a second coffee shop now,” Remy explained, “It’s something I’m good at and if I’m good enough I could get promoted to manager.”

“That’s great, Rem,” Emile said. “I’m happy for you.”

“Yeah, I just feel...freer, you know? Like I could do anything! I knew all the stuff they were teaching me in business school, so maybe if I get good enough at making coffee I can start my own shop. That’d be cool, don’t you think?”

Emile smiled. “That sounds exactly up your alley,” he agreed. “Especially the manager part.”

“I know. Like, that would never happen at Starbucks, but this is a slightly smaller, local chain. Like, only really in this state sorta thing. Still big, but not  _ huge, _ you know? If they like me, if I can  _ make them _ like me, I could get paid more with the promotion and quit the Starbucks job entirely.”

“And the paperwork came through in the mail today, huh?” Emile asked, rounding Remy to get a closer peek at the letter Remy was holding.

“Yeah,” Remy agreed. “They told me I didn’t have to go to class after Monday, which was a relief because there was supposed to be a huge test yesterday and it no longer impacts my grade, because I  _ have _ no grade anymore! I’m free!”

Emile laughed, and Remy grinned. “Well, then, Mister ‘Free Man,’ what are you going to do to celebrate this occasion?”

“I want...to go clubbing,” Remy said. “There’s a club on the outskirts of town I’ve wanted to go to for weeks, but I never got around to it. But tonight, I have a little bit of spare money and no worries, and I want to go clubbing.”

“Sounds like a plan, I guess,” Emile laughed. “You can have fun with that.”

“I’m dragging you along, you know,” Remy said. “It’s eleven, we can have dinner and then head out.”

Emile blinked in shock, and Remy rolled his eyes. “Yeah, of course I’m taking you with me, you have the car.”

“Oh, you want to use me for my car. Nevermind, I completely understand now,” Emile said, words dripping sarcasm.

Remy shoved him playfully and Emile grinned. “You seriously want to go to a club, you’re gonna need a fake ID, you know,” Emile said.

“Nah, that’s the great thing about this club: they allow people under twenty one, you’re just not allowed to buy alcohol. I can get all the cute boys to buy me drinks,” Remy said with a wink.

“Right, because that will end  _ so _ well,” Emile said, rolling his eyes and wrapping an arm around Remy’s shoulders. “I’ll make us both sandwiches and then we can try the club, okay?”

“Sure. Hey, where  _ were _ you all day, anyway? You never arrive home after ten,” Remy said.

“I was visiting my parents, remember?” Emile asked. “Just took the day to drive down there, and headed back here starting at like...I dunno, nine? I didn’t eat a whole lot at dinner, though, and you’ll need food in your stomach when you decide to get pretty boys to buy you drinks, so sandwiches it is.”

“Cool. Also, you’ll need to change,” Remy said, guiding Emile inside the house. “I don’t care  _ how _ cozy your sweater is, you’re gonna get hot, and you’re not gonna get in if you wear that. We’re getting you some new threads.”

“Okay,” Emile said in that voice that Remy knew meant Emile was just humoring him.

Nevertheless, while Emile made sandwiches, Remy raided Emile’s closet and pulled out an outfit that would actually pass for cool. Skinny jeans, and a faded white band T-shirt. Remy tossed a pair of plain socks on the bed and placed Emile’s sneakers at the foot. He walked out. “I’ve got an acceptable club outfit for you on your bed,” he said, smirking. “And it involves those skinny jeans you insisted you’d  _ never _ find a use for.”

Emile groaned but passed Remy a sandwich, which he immediately tore into. “I’ll get changed,” he allowed. “But you had better be ready for me to whine.”

Remy just grinned and waved Emile onward. When Remy’s sandwich had been finished and Emile came walking out, Remy stood there shocked for a moment. He hadn’t anticipated Emile looking  _ hot _ in the outfit he’d picked out. Cute, sure. But  _ hot? _ Completely out of left field. “You chose my socks for me? Really?” Emile asked.

Snapping back to life, Remy shook himself. “Yeah, I didn’t need you ruining your look with cartoon socks.”

Emile pouted. “What’s wrong with my cartoon socks?”

“They’re not exactly the kind of socks you would want to wear at a club, Emile. They won’t score you any points with the guys. Or the gals, for that matter.”

Emile just sighed, ate his sandwich, and then they were on the road. Remy had his chair tilted back and his fingers were laced together behind his head. “Today is a good day,” he said.

“I’m glad you think so,” Emile said. “Were you waiting for me to come home to share the news that you dropped out?”

“Eh, only a little,” Remy said. “I wasn’t, like, watching the window, but I didn’t want to go to sleep before I shared the news.”

Emile shook his head. “And you call  _ me _ the nerd in this friendship.”

“You  _ are _ the nerd in this friendship,” Remy said.

Emile laughed as they pulled into the parking lot. “You keep telling yourself that,” he said.

They got out of the car, flashed their IDs to the bouncers, and were let inside with minimal fuss. Remy felt the bass of the music thrum in his chest, and he grinned. He turned to Emile, who was already looking around the crowd, no doubt trying to spot someone he knew. Remy tapped his shoulder and almost-shouted, “I’m gonna go have some fun. Meet by the bathrooms in two hours to see how we feel?”

Emile nodded and Remy started moving through the crowd until he was on the dancefloor. Now, Remy didn’t know the specifics of dancing, but he knew how to sway his hips in just such a way that it would attract attention. He worked his way through the crowd doing just that, catching the attention of several girls, until he noticed one muscled man standing on the edge of the dancefloor, watching him. Remy put on a flirty grin and crooked his finger a few times.

The man offered a smile of his own and walked over. He was about as tall as Remy was, and the second he came over, he said, “Name’s Chris.”

“Remy,” Remy said, offering his hand. “Care to dance?”

Chris took Remy’s hand and they started to dance together, the beat of the drums matching their movements around the dancefloor. Remy noticed that several of the girls who were watching him before were now giving him dirty looks, but he didn’t care. This wasn’t a  _ gay _ club, but it had the best reputation for being gay-friendly. And no one could kick him out for dancing with a man.

As one song bled into the next, Remy and Chris continued to dance, until they were near the bar and Chris asked, “Can I buy you a drink?”

“Sure, why not?” Remy replied with a laugh.

Chris went to the bar, and came back with two beers, passing one to Remy. “What’s a guy like you doing in a place like this?” Chris asked. “You could certainly go to any gay bar and be the star of the show.”

“You flatter me,” Remy said, taking a sip of his beer. “I just dropped out of college. Figured I’d have a little fun on one of my off days before I start up my second job, to help with rent around here.”

Chris whistled. “Special occasion, then,” he said with a sly grin. “Here with anyone, or did you come over by yourself?”

“Friend drove me over here, but he’s nobody,” Remy said looking around. He pointed to where Emile was at the edge of the dance floor, talking to a girl. “He’s actually getting some action of his own, by the looks of it.”

Chris laughed. “You think he’d be okay if you went home with someone else?”

“I mean, I’d probably have to tell him, but I doubt he’d really  _ mind,” _ Remy said. He arched an eyebrow. “You offering?”

“If I am?” Chris asked.

“Meh. I’m not looking for anything serious,” Remy said, waving a hand. “We finish our beers and still get on, we can dance more, and if I like you we can go to yours.”

“Sounds fun,” Chris agreed.

The two of them talked as they finished their beers, and when they were done they headed back out onto the dance floor. Remy could feel a buzz settling in, but also just a tad bit of exhaustion. It had to be around midnight by this point, and usually he’d be asleep soon. But he couldn’t be bothered to care about being tired.

After a particularly quick song, which left both Remy and Chris breathless and laughing, Chris kissed Remy softly. Remy kissed back, enjoying the sensation. This wasn’t his first kiss, but it had been a while, and he forgot how good it felt. As Chris pulled back, though, something or someone caught his eye from behind Remy and his eyes widened and he cursed.

Remy turned to find a girl stalking over and fuming. “Chris?! You said you were hanging out at a friend’s tonight?!” she shrieked.

“Bianca, you said you weren’t going to be back until tomorrow evening!” Chris said.

“Is this what you do every time I leave? Go to some club or another and convince someone to come home with you?!” she demanded.

Remy looked at the scene with horror. “You have a girlfriend?!” he asked Chris.

“Not for much longer, he doesn’t!” Bianca exclaimed. “And who exactly are you?!”

“Uh, Remy. Picani. I just wanted to have a little harmless fun, I didn’t realize that Chris might be taken,” Remy stammered out.

Bianca snarled at him. “Sure you didn’t,” she growled.

“I didn’t!” Remy insisted.

“He genuinely didn’t know, Bianca, leave him out of this,” Chris said, putting an arm between Bianca and Remy.

Bianca turned back to him and grabbed him by the bicep. “You and I are going to have a  _ very _ long talk,” she growled, leading him off the dancefloor.

Remy felt like he needed to take a shower after that realization. He felt like filthy scum, even though he didn’t know that Chris had a girlfriend. He stood there on the dancefloor in shock before deciding to head to the bathrooms. He kinda had to pee, and anyway, that’s where he and Emile were supposed to meet up when they were going to check in.

After doing his business, but before he was done washing his hands, Emile came into the bathroom. “Hey, how are you faring?” Emile asked.

“The guy I was flirting with apparently had a girlfriend,” Remy said.

“Ouch,” Emile said with a sympathetic wince.

“Yeah,” Remy said, sighing. He still felt a little buzzed, but his mood was significantly dampened after learning this new information. “I kinda want to dance more, but dancing’s no fun without a partner, and I don’t know if any other guys here are interested in men.”

“There’s always me,” Emile joked.

Remy huffed a laugh. “Yeah, I guess so. No offense, though, Emile, but uh...I think I’d rather dance with someone who  _ isn’t _ my best friend. I don’t want people thinking we’re an item.” That thought made Remy uncomfortable in ways that he couldn’t quite articulate. He hoped that Emile wouldn’t try and read into it, though.

Thankfully, he didn’t seem to. “Yeah, I guess not,” Emile said. “No way to get some people interested in you if they think we’re already a thing.”

“I mean, we could always say we’re not exclusive, but I do agree that it would be easier to just avoid that beast all together,” Remy said.

“Wanna go home?” Emile asked, tilting his head to the door.

Remy considered. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m ready to sleep.”


	14. Chapter 14

####  **December 23rd, 1994**

Emile hugged his cousin Ella as she barreled towards him, nearly sending them both sprawling flat on the ground. “You’re getting really big, Ella. Pretty soon I won’t be able to pick you up anymore!”

“Aw, no!” Ella exclaimed.

Emile laughed. “I said ‘pretty soon,’ meaning you should milk it while you can,” he said, picking Ella up and settling her on his hip.

She shrieked with laughter and Emile grinned. He enjoyed having this time to spend with his family. He wondered if he would have a family of his own some day, for a brief moment, but he put that thought out of his head. That was something to worry about in the future. For now, he could just enjoy the family he currently had.

####  **December 24th, 2000**

Emile admittedly felt a little scummy. He had tried not to, because Remy had insisted he would be okay, but he still didn’t want to leave his friend alone in their apartment for Christmas break. Remy wasn’t going back to his parents’ place, thank goodness, because Emile wouldn’t have been able to let him go there alone in good conscience, but he refused Emile’s invitation to come home to see  _ his _ parents and celebrate Christmas with them.

Still, Emile was trying to not let it get to him. Christmas was when  _ all _ his extended family on his mom’s side went to his grandfather’s, meaning he’d get to see his cousins, aunts, uncles, and everyone in between! He was getting to sit on one of the couches and talk to his mom’s biological brother, and just talk about everything that had happened over the course of the last semester. “...And they tried to force him to switch his major!” Emile exclaimed. “Like, sure, if he wanted to do it himself, I would have supported him, but if his parents were making it a part of the deal for him getting their continued support? That’s a below-the-belt shot.”

“Yeah,” his uncle agreed. “It sounds really tough. I’m glad that you’re there for him.”

Emile shrugged. “I like to think he would have done this sooner or later without my help, but part of me knows that even if he tried, he wouldn’t have gotten this far. Honestly, that scares me, you know?”

“What scares you?” one of his younger cousins asked.

Emile craned his head back over the top of the couch to find Ella standing there, staring at him. “How little options my best friend had in this hypothetical situation I set up.”

“Why are you worried about your best friend in a hypothetical situation?” Ella asked.

“Because if one thing went wrong, it could have been the real situation. I get it’s in the past, but that doesn’t stop the feeling of cheating death.”

Ella squinted at him. “You’re weird, Emile.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Emile waved off. “But what I feel is what I feel. Can’t exactly help it.”

Ella shrugged and walked away, and Emile turned back to his uncle, to find himself the subject of a searching stare. “...Can I help you?” he asked.

“Cheating death is an interesting word choice. Did you cheat death?” his uncle asked.

Emile shrugged. “Some days it definitely feels like that.”

His uncle whistled. “Good thing you’re friends with this guy, Emile. You have to be the best support he could ask for.”

“Eh,” Emile said with a shrug. “A professional could probably give him more help, if only he’d willingly reach out and accept. But yeah, I’m really glad that I got to move to an apartment with him. Less loans for me, and less depression for him.”

“And you both can afford rent?” his uncle asked.

“Yeah,” Emile said. “He’s picked up a second job at a local coffee shop out there, so he’s working two barista jobs for a little extra cash. I’m starting a new job the second of January at Target, so we can both pay for rent, and I can help with food if needed.”

His uncle nodded approvingly. “Then it seems like you have everything set up,” he said.

“Yeah, I’m actually really excited,” Emile said.

“What do you think you’re going to do when you graduate?” his uncle asked. “Are you planning to continue living with your friend? Especially if he can’t afford his own place?”

“I hadn’t thought about that...” Emile said, words soft and trailing off near the end. “I guess I might, or at the very least I’d help him get a new roommate. But I wouldn’t worry about that for a while yet. After all, I’m going there for three and a half more years at least, before grad school comes around. Hopefully by that time, even if I  _ do _ need to move, he’ll be more receptive to knowing people other than me.”

“That sheltered, is he?” his uncle asked.

“I don’t think that’s the right term,” Emile said. “He’s certainly been exposed to plenty of ugly things in his life. ‘Closed-off’ would probably be a better descriptor for it.”

His uncle leaned forward. “How ugly are we talking?”

“I’m not comfortable going into specifics, because I don’t have the full picture, but ugly enough,” Emile said. “He worries me a lot. Thankfully he’s safe over the course of the break, but I wish he would have hung out with some friends, or came here with me as a friend. Honestly, no one should really spend the holidays alone if they don’t want to. And I’m almost positive he doesn’t want to.”

His uncle frowned. “Did you try and insist?”

“If I had done that, he probably would have stormed out of the apartment and never returned,” Emile sighed. “So I’m stuck offering the same things over and over in the hopes that he’ll take them.”

His uncle chewed his cheek but nodded, and soon it was time for dinner. The whole family gathered around the table, enjoying the meal and each other’s company. Emile was mostly successful in keeping the attention off him and Remy with their living situation. Not that he didn’t enjoy talking about Remy, but he didn’t want his whole family scrutinizing his friend when Remy wasn’t even here to defend himself.

They all eventually finished dinner, and then it came time to open up gifts. His cousins mostly got things for their hobbies, like sketch pads and charcoal, or notebooks for writing. One of the boys, Johnny, even got a book full of science experiments to try. They went from youngest cousin to oldest, and soon enough it was Emile’s turn to open whatever he had gotten. His parents came over first, and his dad was snickering as he passed a brown package over to Emile. “This came in the mail for you the other day,” he said. “It had to be a day or two before you came home.”

Emile looked at the return address and groaned. “Remy. Of  _ course _ he would send me something so I wouldn’t object to him spending money on me in person.”

He opened the package with scissors, to find something wrapped up in wrapping paper inside. He frowned, tearing into the paper. His entire face lit up when he saw what Remy got him. “Oh, it’s She-Ra episodes!” he laughed. “I don’t believe it!”

His whole family laughed, but he just held the gift close to his chest. His family had never heard Remy insult Emile’s interest in cartoons, but this meant that he was coming around to the concept of Emile liking said cartoons. He was changing, even if it only meant keeping his opinions to himself and indulging Emile in this particular field of interest. Which was huge, in Emile’s book.

After setting that gift reverently to the side, Emile opened the presents from his parents (a cartoon-themed calendar), his aunts and uncles (fuzzy socks, and a few novels he had mentioned he’d been meaning to read), and his grandfather (an age-old classic of a leather notebook), and let the adults exchange gifts while he looked around for a pen, so he could start up his new notebook.

He made a triumphant noise when he found one hiding behind the punch, forgotten with some company logo on it that Emile didn’t recognize. This was a pen that wouldn’t be missed, and he decided he may as well use it to start off his new journal. He found a small corner in his grandfather’s house where he was unlikely to be disturbed, and opened up the journal to the first page. The trick with this would be figuring out what to write. He didn’t do traditional journalling, talking about his day in a “Dear Diary” sort of fashion. But he didn’t always repeat what he had done in previous journals, provided previous journals even had a theme. Emile had been getting these from his grandfather for literal years, he knew it was coming, and yet he hadn’t figured out how he was going to fill up this journal yet.

In an instant, a solution hit him over the head. He could write imaginary letters to his friends in order to sort through his emotions, and anything else that happened to occur between whenever he last wrote through to the present. And he knew exactly who his first entry would be to:

_ Dear Remy, _

_ Thank you for the She-Ra episodes, it really means a lot to me. I know you would shrug it off as not being a big deal, but it's definitely huge to me. I know you aren't a fan of cartoons, and I know that trying to keep all of my cartoon paraphernalia in my room still makes you feel weird sometimes. So you getting these for me really means a lot. I know we don't have a TV yet, or a VHS player, but knowing you, you thought about that and have something else in store for whenever I get back home. _

_ I know you don't want me to, but I do sometimes worry about you, Rem. Like, a lot. You said you would be fine on your own for Christmas, but you did that thing where your eyes dart around the room before you look back at me, and that always happens before you lie to me. You would have been more than welcome to spend the holidays with my family. No one would have even assumed that we were a couple, provided I said off the bat that you didn't have family to celebrate Christmas with. _

_ Still, I respect your decision. And I know not everyone would want to go to Mass at church early Christmas morning. _ I _ barely enjoy that, and the only time I do properly have fun is near the end, when I'm finally alert enough to enjoy the songs that everyone is singing. _

_ I hope that you're having a good Christmas, though. Whether you find someone who's still in town and has nowhere to go, like you, or you volunteer somewhere because it's Christmas and you'd rather not be alone, even if that means just going to the soup kitchen, then I hope that you have a good time. _

_ I really care about you, Remy. And I know that you'd scoff and roll your eyes if I told you as much, but I really do. And I hope, one day, you'll let me say it without you being uncomfortable. Maybe you'd even say it back. _

_ I know you'll never see this, but take care, all right? _

_ Emile _

That done, he slid the pen in the little spot next to the back cover that had a piece of elastic made for holding pens or pencils, and sighed as he looked up and around the house. No one seemed to be looking for him, which was admittedly a little surprising. Usually he got carried up and away in his writing and he wouldn’t come back to the present for at least half an hour.

He walked back to the living room, and his dad glanced over. “You good, Emile?” he asked.

“Breaking in the new journal,” Emile said sheepishly, waving it in the air. “It needed to be done, and now at least I know what I’m going to do with it.”

His grandfather smiled approvingly and Emile smiled back. He settled onto the couch again, next to where his gifts were, and his thoughts kept drifting back to Remy. He really hoped that Remy was having a good time, whatever that entailed for him. Remy deserved to be happy. Everyone deserved to be happy, but considering all the work Remy had put in over just the past three months in trying to be a better person, Remy extra-deserved it.

_ I hope that you have a good Christmas, Remy, _ Emile sent out the silent thought.  _ And I hope that you won’t be alone. _


	15. Chapter 15

####  **July 13th, 1985**

Remy watched the man panhandling on the island in the middle of the street with a frown. “Why’s he asking for money?” he asked.

“Because he’s homeless, or close to it, probably,” Toby told him, nudging him in the middle of the sedan.

“What does homeless mean? Like, doesn’t he have a place to live?” Remy asked.

“Not everyone does,” Toby told him.

Remy stared at Toby in shock. “Why not?!”

“Because some people are just lazy and can’t hold down a job,” his mother said from the front of the car.

Remy was stunned into silence. People would actually live...on the street, or wherever? They would be...without a house? He didn’t understand. Wouldn’t people on the street not be lazy, and want to find a place to stay?

As their car moved on, Remy sat forward again and supposed that this had to be one of those adult things that he just didn’t understand yet. He was finding a lot of those recently.

####  **December 25th, 2000**

Remy would never admit it to anyone, and especially not Emile, but he was feeling lonely. This would be his first year celebrating Christmas without his family...well,  _ ever. _ And he had no idea how bone-crushing the feeling of being alone would become.

He wanted to get up, to do something, to keep busy, but most places, if not every place, was closed today because it was Christmas. He had cut off contact entirely with his parents when he moved, so he wasn’t about to call them, or even explain why he wasn’t there. Toby had a cell phone, but his number must have changed, because the voicemail on what  _ used _ to be his number now sounded like a teenage girl had recorded it. In Spanish. To make matters worse, Toby hadn’t gotten Remy’s new address yet. Remy had called him the day they had finally finished the move, only to hear that infernal message in Spanish. He had called the number once or twice since, but the voicemail remained the same.

Today, feeling particularly lonely, he called up the phone once more out of curiosity, but instead of getting that voicemail, he actually got someone picking up.  _ “Hello?” _ the girl asked, accent thick.  _ “Who is this?” _

“Oh, nobody,” Remy sighed. “I thought this was my brother’s number.”

_ “I only got this number the beginning of the month,” _ the girl said.  _ “It must have belonged to your brother before.” _

“Must have,” Remy echoed hollowly.

_ “I am sorry,” _ she said.  _ “I wish I could help you more.” _

“I don’t suppose you’ve heard of a Toby Picani?” Remy asked.

_ “No. Is that your brother’s name?” _ she asked.

“Yeah, that’s my brother.”

_ “There was a woman constantly calling me when I first got the number. Speaking about how she was meant to be with your Toby. After I answered her calls instead of letting it go to voicemail, she stopped calling. But he must have changed his number because of her,” _ the girl paused.  _ “I hope you have a Merry Christmas.” _

Remy choked on a laugh. “Yeah, you too. Merry Christmas.”

The girl hung up and Remy did the same. He pressed his phone against his forehead.  _ His _ number had changed after he got off his parents’ plan. It wasn’t like Toby could call him, and he didn’t have Toby’s number, and he didn’t know where Toby was going to school. He hadn’t thought to ask for the address at Thanksgiving.

Tears burned his eyes like fire and he silently sobbed. All he wanted to do was talk to his brother, was that too much to ask? Apparently. He stood up abruptly and went to his room, screaming into a pillow as tears scorched down his face. He took a deep breath, and then another. He looked around his room, desperate for something, anything, to do.

Emile must have gotten his gift last night; he told Remy that his family opened presents on Christmas Eve. What he didn’t realize was that Remy had saved up a little extra money, enough to afford a crappy old TV and a slightly newer VHS reader. Well, not immediately. He’d be able to afford them tomorrow, when the after-Christmas sales started. But when Emile came back, January second, he’d be able to watch She-Ra to his heart’s content.

Despite himself, Remy smiled. Emile was adorable when he got excited about something. He sincerely hoped that Emile never lost that enthusiasm, even if it had to be over something as dorky as cartoons. But Remy would be able to watch sports whenever the mood struck, and Emile would get to watch his cartoons, and everything would be okay in the end. Or at least, as okay as anything could be. He still couldn’t call Toby, and he couldn’t write, and asking his parents would be completely pointless. Vanessa would undoubtedly just tell his parents where Remy now lived and what he was doing, so she wasn’t an option.

Wow, he really should have gone to hang out with Emile, even if he knew absolutely none of Emile’s family. That would have been less depressing than this. How pathetic was he, sitting alone in his bedroom, in his empty apartment, crying over the fact that he had lost contact with his brother?

He stood up, grabbing his jacket, putting his cell phone in his pocket, and headed out on a walk after locking the apartment. He had no idea where he was going, but he couldn’t sit still any longer.

The weather was freezing, most likely in the literal sense. Remy shivered, despite wearing the coat that had actual insulation rather than his typical leather jacket. And Emile could mock him for wearing that thing all he wanted, but that would not stop Remy from wearing it. It was a comfort, in addition to fitting in exactly with his preferred aesthetic. What he would have loved, though, was a leather jacket with actual insulation, like fleece or something, on the inside, for when winter came around. He couldn’t just keep on like this and not be able to wear his favorite jacket when the snow started falling. It wasn’t fair that he had to drop his aesthetic for practicality.

As he continued to walk, he noticed he was approaching the local homeless shelter. He rolled his shoulders and sighed. Sure, it wasn't exactly what he had planned when he woke up this morning, but it had to be something, didn’t it? Helping other people always made Emile happy, and maybe it could do the same thing to Remy.

He walked into the shelter, finding a majority of the tables full of people, in various stages of disarray. “Can I help you?” an unfamiliar voice asked him.

Remy turned to find an older man looking him over. “Uh, maybe?” Remy asked. “I was wondering if there was...um...any way for me to help out today? I was...I was kinda walking around, and I saw this place, and I figured, well, maybe I could help in some way, you know?”

The man smiled at him. “Well, we could use one or two people in the kitchen. Most of our volunteers are out of town.”

“Okay,” Remy said. “What do you need me to do?”

The old man motioned for Remy to follow him, and Remy did so. “All I need you to do is pass out meals to the people who come in and ask for them. We haven’t quite gotten to when we give away lunch, most of the people in here are waiting for it. I can have someone else cook the meals, so you don't have to worry about burning anything.”

“Uh...thanks,” Remy laughed. “I’m afraid I’m not much of an enthusiastic cook on the best of days. Too much work, most of the time.”

The old man smiled at him. “I don’t suppose you’ve ever volunteered at a place like this before?”

“Uh, no. Not really,” Remy admitted.

“I thought not,” the old man said. “But that’s okay, we all have to start somewhere.”

“Yeah...” Remy said.

The old man looked him over. “Not much of a talker, are you?”

“Not usually, no,” Remy said. “Not around people I’m not familiar with.”

“Well, a lot of the volunteers here would press you to talk, but if you tell them you’re not comfortable talking, most of them should leave you alone. As always, there are a few persistent people, but if you tell them to back off enough times, they will,” the man said.

“Not always,” Remy laughed. “I live with my best friend, and the only reason he’s my best friend is because he wouldn’t leave me alone for a while after we first met.”

“Huh,” the old man said. “There’s a regular volunteer here, Emile, who has a similar story, from the other perspective. You wouldn’t happen to be Remy?”

“That’s me,” Remy said. “Emile volunteers here?”

“He helps the kids with their homework sometimes. It started usually when his best friend was busy with work, and he couldn’t stand an empty apartment. But once a week became twice, and twice became three times, and now he usually comes around some time between when school lets out and seven or so, to help the kids who are struggling,” the old man said. “He said that he thought you’d never be caught dead here.”

Remy turned red. “Usually, he’d be right,” Remy said, ducking his head. “I didn’t have any plans to come here. I just couldn’t stand the empty apartment, like he couldn’t, and I started walking, and I wound up here.”

The old man stopped at a back door and smiled at Remy. “Well, I am very glad you did. If you don’t mind working here, you might even find yourself coming back.”

Remy shrugged. “I really don’t know. I don’t know what any of this entails, so I don’t know if it’s for me or not.”

“Well, you’ll find out soon enough,” the man said, pushing open the door and walking in to a kitchen. “Put on a hair net and gloves,” he instructed. “I can show you the ropes from there.”

“Bernie!” a young woman called. “Are we starting up lunch yet?”

“Five minutes!” Bernie called back. “We have a new volunteer, and he needs to get ready!”

“A new...on Christmas?! We never get new volunteers on Christmas!” she said, walking over.

Remy snapped a hair net over his head and tugged on gloves.

“We do today,” Bernie said. “You know Emile’s friend?”

“Yeah, the one who he’s always saying would never show up here, even if he needed the help instead of giving it?” she asked, cocking a hip.

“Well, he was wrong,” Bernie said. “Remy, this is Amelia. She’ll teach you the song and dance of passing out food.”

“Okay,” Remy said, following her to the front of the kitchen, where plates and food were stacking up. “Okay, confession time...I have never done this before in my life, what do I do?” he asked her.

“Just make plates based on what each person wants. Sometimes they’ll tell you, sometimes they’ll point if English isn’t their first language. One main dish for each person, and two sides, plus a desert, if they want it,” Amelia said.

Remy looked at the food waiting for them, and looked over to where two guys were joking as they cooked more. “Do you really have enough food for that?”

“We scrape by,” Amelia said. “It’s first-come first-served. Usually we have just enough to last the hour and a half we offer lunch.”

Remy cleared his throat. “That sounds...difficult,” he said.

“It is,” she said. “But we manage. You’ll catch on fast enough, if you’re anything like Emile says you are, you’re a quick study.”

“I mean I guess...?” Remy said.

“Well, we’re about to find out,” Amelia said. She rang a bell that was resting on top of the display, and people started rushing over to get food.

Remy found himself busy enough that all thoughts of his family and his current situation left his mind. But he also found himself busy enough that he was barely scraping by to get everyone their food, and he was a barista two times over! Everyone was civil enough, but he barely had enough time to pass out one plate before the next person was already ordering.

When lunch was over, the volunteers all left the kitchen, but Bernie stopped Remy before he could follow the others to wherever they were headed. “Emile was asking me to keep something here,” he told Remy. “He said it was a surprise for you, and he said that if on the off-chance you did show up here, I could give it to you before he got back.”

Confused, Remy followed Bernie to a back office. He was handed a package covered in  _ Peanuts _ wrapping paper, and Remy muttered, “Of course,” with an eye roll and a smile. He tore into it to find...a new jacket. It was similar to the leather one he had at home, but this one was lined with thick fleece. “Unbelievable,” he said. “How did he know?!”

“He said you mentioned it in passing while the two of you were walking around town,” Bernie said. “He picks up on details like that.”

Remy held the jacket close and could feel himself getting weepy. “I don’t know how to thank him,” he muttered.

“And that’s his Christmas present to you,” Bernie said. “He said he had a surprise for your birthday planned, as well.”

“I...what?!” Remy asked in shock.

“He said your birthday was New Year’s Eve?” Bernie asked. At Remy’s nod, he said, “Well, I know he had something planned for that. Don’t know what it is, but keep an eye out.”

Remy was shocked. Yeah, Emile was generous, he supposed, but this almost seemed like too much. He had no idea what that surprise was, but he knew he’d be lucky, whatever it was. Emile would make sure he felt special. That’s just what he did. Remy really didn’t deserve him.


	16. Chapter 16

####  **December 31st, 1999**

Emile was excited. It was the final minutes before midnight, before an entire new millennium started. Not many people would get to say they lived through that and remembered it, one day.

As the minutes turned into seconds, Emile and his family watched the ball get ready to drop in Times Square on TV. He couldn’t imagine what sorts of things would happen not only in the new year, but in the whole of the two-thousands. He knew he was going off to college in the fall of two thousand-and that was a weird thought, not have nineteen in front of the number-but there was so much he  _ didn’t _ know about the future. And while that scared him a little, he was also incredibly excited.

When the ball dropped and his whole family cheered, Emile grinned. He couldn’t imagine what he’d be doing next year today, but he hoped it was something great.

####  **December 31st, 2000**

Emile drove into the complex’s parking lot with a smile on his face. He had told Remy that he would be coming back the second of January, but he had been planning to surprise Remy by coming home a little early. His parents had understood and let him go on the condition that he call them the morning of the first. The rest of his family griped a little but still let him go with minimal fuss.

Getting out of his car and grabbing his things from the backseat, he climbed the stairs to their apartment and knocked on the door. He could hear footsteps, and then the light by the peephole dimmed, and the door was opened by a very confused Remy. “Emile? You weren’t supposed to be back for another two days!”

“Yeah, well, I thought I’d surprise you, seeing as how it was your birthday and all. Didn’t want you to spend it alone,” Emile said, walking in and putting his stuff down in his room. He walked back out and noticed the TV along with the VHS player. “I was wondering if that was gonna be here or not.”

“Yeah, well, no point in buying you cartoons you can’t watch,” Remy said with a shrug. “I really like the jacket you got me.”

Emile’s eyebrows shot up. “You went to the shelter?”

“Wound up there after a bit of a walk,” Remy said with a shrug. “Helped with the lunch rush. Gave me something to do, and let me stop thinking about other things. Now, back to the original question: why are you here?”

“Like I told you, it’s your birthday, I didn’t want you to be on your own on your birthday, that’s just no fun!” Emile exclaimed.

“So you...drove two hours just to make sure I wouldn’t be alone?” Remy asked, eyebrows furrowing together.

“Yep!” Emile chirped. “Anything you want to do to celebrate? We could eat out for dinner tonight, I have a little spare cash.”

“No, no, hold up,” Remy said, holding up a hand to stop Emile from continuing to talk. “You. Drove  _ two full hours _ this morning just so I wouldn’t be alone all day?”

“Technically it was more like two and a half. Traffic was killer,” Emile said with a shrug. “Why, is that a big deal?”

“Is it a big deal?” Remy repeated dumbly. “You’re giving up time with your family to be with me!”

“Yeah, I know,” Emile said. “I made the decision, Rem.”

“But...why? You don’t exactly get to see your family often,” Remy said.

“Yeah, and your birthday only happens once a year,” Emile said. “I wanted to make sure you had a happy nineteen.”

“...Am I really that important to you? That you’d give up more time with your parents just to celebrate my birthday?” Remy asked, his voice soft and small.

“Of course, Remy,” Emile said. “Of course you’re that important, you’re my best friend, and there’s no one I’d rather spend New Year’s Eve with.”

Remy walked over and hugged Emile tight. Slowly, Emile brought his hands up to hug Remy back. Hugs from Remy were special things, not to be taken lightly and rarely given out. But he always put his all into them. Squeezing tight, but not so tight that Emile couldn’t breathe. Sometimes he’d rest his head on Emile’s shoulder, and sometimes he’d whisper something he wanted to say to Emile, but was too scared to say aloud. “I love you,” Remy whispered. “I don’t know how else to say that. Not in a, ‘I’d date you’ way, you know? More in a...‘you’re my best friend and if anything happened to you I’d be devastated’ sort of way.”

Emile smiled and a chuckle slipped out. “I love you too, Remy.”

Remy held Emile tighter and Emile savored the sensation until Remy’s grip went lax, and they parted. Emile smiled softly at Remy, who was swiping the tears out of his eyes. “So, my question still stands: do you want to do anything for your birthday?”

Remy shrugged. “I guess dinner would be nice, yeah.”

“Then we’ll have dinner,” Emile said with a smile. “Anything you want to do until then? Do you have to work?”

“No, I don’t have to work, I’m not on Starbucks’ schedule today and the local shop is closed,” Remy said softly.

“Okay, that gives us the afternoon to do whatever you want,” Emile said.

Remy’s head dropped towards the ground, and Emile could tell he was choking back more tears when he asked, “Emile, I know you don’t want to be my therapist...but can I vent for a second?”

“Of course,” Emile said, putting a hand on Remy’s shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“Toby...” Remy made a choked sound. “Toby doesn’t have our address. He doesn’t have my phone number. And I...I don’t have his. His ex-girlfriend apparently stalked him and he had to change it, and I obviously was not welcome back home at Christmas, so I couldn’t talk to him about that then...he’s gone, Emile. I lost all contact with him. I wanted to at least call and tell him Merry Christmas, but I didn’t get to, and I know that he doesn’t know where I am, but I was still hoping that somehow...somehow, he’d find out, and he’d be able to...to wish me a happy...birthday...but...” Remy was outright crying now, albeit trying to muffle the sounds. “But he can’t. And...and I don’t know what I’m going to do, Emile. We were never the closest brothers in the world, but he cared about me, he was my best friend, and...and I miss him...”

“Aw, Rem...” Emile bit his lip. “Is it okay if I hug you?”

Remy nodded and Emile hugged him fiercely. “This is not your fault,” Emile said with certainty. “And it hurts, and I know that the pain you’re going through must be overwhelming. It really, really sucks. But you know what? I’m sure that Toby is out there, somewhere, wishing you a Happy Birthday anyway. Even if he can’t call, and he can’t write. He knows it’s your birthday, and I bet he’s trying to psychically send good vibes your way.” Remy laughed at that, and Emile smiled. “You’ll be okay, Rem. It’ll hurt, but you’ll get through it. You’re impossibly strong.”

Remy nodded into Emile’s shoulder, and Emile just sighed into Remy’s. “You can hug me as long as you need, I really don’t mind,” he said softly.

They stayed like that for a long while, Emile hugging Remy as Remy quietly cried. He was mourning a loss, and Emile understood that. Remy would need time. And occasionally, this might resurface and he might get hurt again. But Emile swore that he would be there to help Remy as much as he could. After all, isn’t that what best friends did? They helped each other when they were hurt, they let each other cry, they shared secrets and ambitions and plans for the future. And while this may have changed Remy’s plans, Emile was certain that Remy could get through it.

When Remy finally whimpered out a, “I feel better now,” Emile let his hands drop and took a step back. Remy wiped at his eyes and heaved a sigh, but he seemed a lot more level. “Thanks, Emile,” Remy murmured. “I didn’t expect this to have as much of an impact on me as it did, but...”

“Hey, you’re allowed to feel what you feel, and however much you feel that is a valid feeling,” Emile said. “You’re gonna be okay, but it’s all right if you’re not okay right this minute.”

“You sure?” Remy asked uncertainly. “It’s really okay to...not be okay?”

“Yeah,” Emile said. “It takes a while to feel okay sometimes. That’s normal.”

Remy sniffled and nodded. “Okay then. If it’s...if you don’t mind, I’m gonna...uh, take a nap, I think. Just sleep some of the exhaustion off.”

“Yeah, knock yourself out,” Emile said with a smile.

Remy groaned. “That was terrible, Emile,” he grumbled, heading to his room.

Emile just laughed. “I’ll be watching She-Ra if you need me.”

Remy grunted and closed the door to his bedroom, and Emile grabbed his VHS tapes, putting one of them in the player and bouncing excitedly as it began to play the opening.

When two episodes had gone by, and Emile had seen neither hide nor hair from Remy, he knocked on Remy’s door. “Rem? You up?” He waited a minute, then knocked again. “Remy, can I come in?”

There was shuffling, and then the door opened an inch, Remy rubbing his eyes on the other side. “I was sleeping,” he grumbled.

“Yeah, it’s been an hour,” Emile said. “Your sleep schedule is already getting messed up by me letting you sleep  _ that _ long.”

Remy grumbled again. “Want to sleep more.”

“Well, you can’t do that, but if you want, I have some novels I got at Christmas, you could go through those and figure out what you like?” Emile offered.

Remy grunted but left his room, which Emile counted as a win. He picked up the novels he had placed in his own bedroom and brought them out for Remy to inspect. “You can have your first choice, just don’t spoil anything for me.”

Picking a random book from Emile’s hands, Remy slumped to the floor and started to read. Emile rolled his eyes fondly and grabbed his own book to read, musing that they needed to invest in at the very least two chairs in terms of furniture.

They must have read for several hours, because when Emile came back to the world around them after finishing the novel, the sun was setting. Remy was still engrossed in the book he had picked out, and Emile lightly nudged Remy’s foot with his own. Remy quirked an eyebrow in silent question, glancing up from the book in his hands.

“Want to go get dinner now?” Emile asked. “Sun’s setting.”

“It’s winter, the sun sets at four in the afternoon.” A beat. “Sure, why not.”

“We don’t have to eat it right away,” Emile pointed out as they got ready. “We could get take-out.”

“Nah, if we’re gonna eat out we may as well  _ actually _ eat out, as in, at the restaurant, you know?” Remy said.

“Okay,” Emile said. “Anywhere in particular you’d want to eat? Considering that lots of places would be closed on New Year’s Eve.”

Remy shrugged. “I know places that aren’t bars but  _ have _ bars will be open,” he offered.

“What sort of places like that are there around here?” Emile asked.

Remy shrugged. “I’m not sure. We could always just drive around and look? I’ll help you with gas money in return for that.”

Emile hesitated. He didn’t want to just drive around for no apparent reason, but if Remy would pay for gas money... “Okay, fine, we can figure out a place to go by driving around,” Emile said, grabbing his car keys.

Remy hummed and paused. “Actually...”

“Actually?” Emile asked.

“I mean, we know the shelter’s going to be open, right? And the food there is edible, and the workers get to eat after they’ve helped with dinner,” Remy said.

“Are you suggesting that you want to volunteer at the shelter on your birthday, when you could be doing absolutely anything else?” Emile asked in surprise.

“It’ll give me a distraction,” Remy said. “Better than most things would. And I’d still get to talk to you, and we’d get to eat, and I’d feel a little accomplished for doing something today.” He paused. “Is that weird?”

“No, no, it’s not weird,” Emile rushed to assure him. “It didn’t seem like something you’d want to do on your birthday, but if you want to do that we can walk to the shelter and help out.”

“Cool,” Remy said. “I was wondering what it might be like to help alongside you, instead of when you’re not around, and this solves that mystery quicker, too.”

“Yeah,” Emile agreed. Inwardly, he felt a swell of affection for Remy. He was starting to learn how to care about other people, outside his circle. Even if it wasn’t often, even if it was about him and his questions, he was learning. And Emile was incredibly proud of him for that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little fun note, when editing this chapter I thought to myself "I'm going to kill the author for hurting Remy" before remembering that I, in fact, was the one hurting Remy. XD


	17. Chapter 17

####  **September 13th, 1985**

Remy laid back on his bed, studying the cracks in the paint on his ceiling. He wanted to sleep, but he was finding it hard without his blanket. He’d had it for as long as he could remember, but his parents had hidden it away somewhere today, and they had refused to give it back. He had begged, he had offered to do anything for its return, but still they refused. And when he was left on his own, he had cried.

He grabbed Bones and snuggled the dog close to his chest. At least he still had Bones, he definitely didn’t want Bones to be taken away, ever ever ever. Next to his blanket, Bones was his biggest sense of comfort. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep. Sooner or later, it had to work, and then maybe tomorrow he could set out in search of his blanket.

####  **January 3rd, 2001**

Remy had few rules in his life that he would not listen to, and even fewer that he would discard entirely. And rule number one, that he had made when a young kid, ignored time and time again, only to get hurt, time and time again, was “don’t get attached.” Don’t get attached to that toy, Mom and Dad will take it when they think you’ve outgrown it. Don’t get attached to that animal, its owner will eventually have to take it home and Mom and Dad would never let you get a pet of your own. Don’t get attached to people, if you think you’ve made friends with them they’ll crush your very soul when you least expect it and Mom and Dad will say it’s your own fault.

He had been pretty good at following that rule starting in high school, but even then, he only lasted three and a half years with that rule before he had realized he’d thrown it out the window. Emile came along, and he got attached. Worse, he got  _ friendly. _ He couldn’t imagine what his past self would say to him right now, but he knew it would be something along the lines of being an idiot.

And now, he was breaking another one of those rules, which was “tell no one.” Because here he was, spilling his guts out to Kim, explaining how he had grown attached to Emile and how he didn’t even realize how much the man meant to him until their first therapy appointment and what Emile had said afterwards. “...And I guess it’s a good thing, you know? Most people would say that it’s good I’ve made a friend, and that I want to make more friends, even if it’s just so I can have a safety net. But in my past experiences, friends have only ever tried to hurt me, sooner or later.” Remy scratched the back of his neck. “I still don’t even know why I’m explaining this to you, because one of my other things was that I didn’t want to tell anyone about this. They’d see it as a ‘problem,’ when it’s not. It’s just how I live.”

Kim sat there and nodded as Remy talked, and when his hands fell back into his lap, which they had both realized meant he was done talking, Kim spoke. “Different people certainly do have different ways of living, Remy, but humans are social animals. We need other people around us, who know us, and who can interact with us, if we want to stay stable.”

“Everyone says that, but there are days where I find that so hard to believe. Humans are cruel, we hurt each other for sport, and laugh when someone cries over something, and we’re often forced to hide parts of ourselves we don’t want to be mocked for, because being mocked is a genuine concern,” Remy said. “And, like, I know Emile won’t hurt me. At least, not on purpose. But I don’t know if that’s the case for anyone else, not for sure. I don’t want to put myself out there only to get crushed again.”

“And yet you still want friends?” Kim asked.

Remy nodded with a sigh. “I want to skip past the rocky part where you don’t know much about each other and just know right off the bat if I can trust them or not. But I’m not the best judge of character.”

“And every relationship has that rocky part. From what you’ve told me you and Emile had quite a bit of clashing at the beginning of your friendship?” Kim asked.

“Yeah. Mostly because of me. I’d do something that hurt his feelings, or else I’d just try and push him away so I could be alone, but he didn’t give up. He kept trying to talk to me. And eventually I gave in, and he’s a good guy,” Remy said. He shrugged. “I got lucky. He wasn’t trying to get close to me to exploit me.”

“Is that how you see most people? Out to exploit you?”

Remy shrugged. “I mean, I guess. That’s how it was in the past at least, you know? And people don’t really change all that much, unless they make an active effort. And I never saw any effort from them.”

“You’ve never seen what these potential friends might have been doing by themselves to make them better people, either,” Kim pointed out. “Just because it doesn’t happen when you’re around doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen.”

“I know that,” Remy sighed. “But it seems...insincere.”

Kim pursed her lips. “You know, Remy, there’s not much else I can say except to tell you that you’re going to have to take those chances in your life. And yes, there are going to be times where you’re going to make mistakes, or misjudge someone, or say something you shouldn’t have. But that’s not a good reason to not take a chance. College students are much more forgiving than high school kids, I’ve found. You might find that more people are like Emile.”

“No one’s like Emile,” Remy said. “He’s a beast unto his own. No mere mortal would be able to get me in this seat.”

Kim laughed, and Remy smirked. “Well, we do crazy things for the people we love. And obviously, it doesn’t have to be romantic love, either.”

Remy agreed quietly. “I’m...I’m coming to terms with that one, at least. That you don’t have to love someone romantically to do kind things for or with them.”

“Did your family not do those things with you?” Kim asked. “Because that outlook is typically not something one has to learn.”

Remy laughed, a harsh and bitter sound. “That’s a good one, my family doing kind things for me. Toby might have, but Mom and Dad? Didn’t remember that I existed half the time.”

Kim frowned. “They neglected you?”

“I mean, I don’t know.” Remy shrugged. “They made sure that at the end of the day I had food, and water, and a place to sleep.”

“But did they hug you? Did they give you reassurance when you were hurt? Did they make sure your  _ emotional _ needs were met?” Kim asked.

“What...what are emotional needs?” Remy asked. “I don’t...because we weren’t very touchy-feely in my house, but...”

“Emotional needs are things such as feeling safe, feeling loved, feeling special in someone’s eyes,” Kim said. “Physical touch can be one way to express love, but you don’t need to hug someone all the time in order for them to help you meet your emotional needs.”

“Uh...” Remy wracked his brain for something to say that wouldn’t sound bad. “I mean...my brother...Toby would help me with those.”

“But not your parents?” Kim asked.

Remy inwardly cursed himself. “Does it really matter who’s meeting those needs, so long as they’re met?”

“Yes,” Kim said. “Your brother should not have had the responsibility of taking care of you.”

“Well, he didn’t—”

“—Emotionally, Remy. Taking care of someone physically or emotionally should not fall on a siblings shoulders, especially when that sibling is a child themselves. That was your parents’ responsibility. One which, evidently, they neglected.”

Remy swallowed. “It wasn’t that bad...other people have had it way worse than me...”

“Maybe, but that doesn’t mean that what you experienced wasn’t bad,” Kim gently said.

Remy looked around, and saw their time was almost up. “Uh, quick question before I go...”

“Yes?” Kim asked.

“How do I...explain this to Emile? Like, he asks me about our sessions, and I share whatever I’m comfortable with, but if I...if I don’t want to unload all this trauma on him so I don’t hurt him, but I  _ do _ want to share the concept...how do I do that?” Remy asked.

“Introduce the subject, either off-hand or outright, depending on what you think Emile would prefer,” Kim said. “Once you give him the basics, allow him to ask his questions. You obviously don't have to answer any of them, but he won’t ask a question that he isn’t comfortable hearing the answer with. He’ll make sure you’re not overstepping his boundaries by stopping you if he gets uncomfortable, and not asking questions that may upset him in the first place.”

“That’s it?” Remy asked dubiously.

“That’s it,” Kim said.

Remy leaned back in his seat. “...Why does that feel so obvious in retrospect?”

“Hindsight is often twenty-twenty vision,” Kim said with a regretful smile.

Remy sighed. “I should have known all this stuff already,” he groaned.

“I won’t say that you shouldn’t have,” Kim said. “But I will say that you didn’t. No one was there to teach you. And while the best time to plant a tree may have been twenty years ago, the second best time is today.”

“What does that even mean?” Remy asked.

“You may have been ‘supposed’ to have learned this already, but you didn’t. So the next best thing to learning it back then is learning it now,” Kim explained.

“Oh. That makes sense, I guess,” Remy said with a shrug.

Kim smiled at him. “One thing at a time, Remy, remember? That’s what we’re working on. Find one thing to focus on and work through that. Don’t let all your worries overwhelm you.”

Remy nodded, they both stood, and Remy walked out to find Emile waiting, as per usual. “Hey, how’d it go?” he asked.

“Pretty well, I think,” Remy said. “I’m realizing some stuff about my family.”

Emile stiffened, but Remy pretended not to notice. “Oh?” Emile asked.

“Yeah,” Remy said as they moved through the parking lot. “Apparently my parents could be considered emotionally neglectful. Which I didn’t even realize was a thing.”

Emile blinked. Remy looked him over. “You okay?” he asked.

“There are days where I would absolutely kill your family in a heartbeat,” Emile replied.

“Don’t kill Toby, at least, he did a lot of the stuff my parents didn’t. And he didn’t have to, he did it because he thought it was the right thing to do,” Remy said.

“It was the right thing to do, but it shouldn’t have been his responsibility,” Emile said. “Nor should it have been yours.”

Remy sighed. “Yeah. I know. But at least I had  _ someone _ looking out for me, you know?”

“Too small a consolation, in my opinion,” Emile said, practically snarling. “What kind of parents would do that?”

Remy felt nausea build in his stomach. “Hey, listen, they weren’t  _ all _ bad, Emile.”

“Right,” Emile said, voice dripping sarcasm. “Because people responsible for child neglect must have some redeeming qualities, like kicking puppies or tax evasion!”

“Emile!” Remy exclaimed. “That’s crossing a line!”

Emile was shaking. He ran his hands through his hair. “I can’t...I can’t believe that they would do that to you, Rem. I just can’t. It’s cruel and unusual, and it’s not fair at all to you. You deserve to have parents who love you. Who respect you. Who treat you like a human being.”

“They  _ did _ treat me like a human being,” Remy said.

Emile silently got in the car.

Remy turned red and got in the passenger seat. “Emile. I haven’t judged you or any of your quirks in a while. Because that crosses a line for you. Well, you talking about my family, and my parents like that crosses a line for me. They weren’t the best, and yeah, I’ve cut contact with them for the time being while I can get my bearings back, but you bashing them isn't going to endear me to you any!”

Emile gripped the steering wheel tight as he started to drive. “Remy...I’m trying real hard to bite my tongue right now. I want to respect your wishes. But what you're saying is making me angry. You shouldn’t have to defend your parents. Because they shouldn’t have to be brought into question over this in the first place. But they are. Just...let me be mad.”

Remy sat there in stunned silence. “I’ll let you be mad, but I disagree with you.”

“I’ll allow that,” Emile said. “So long as you allow me to blow off steam once we get home.”

“Of course,” Remy said.

Emile nodded, and they drove the rest of the way back to their apartment in silence.


	18. Chapter 18

####  **June 5th, 1985**

“Now come on, Emile, the polite thing to do is to apologize,” his mom coaxed.

Emile stared up at her with a stubborn frown. “He shoved me first!” he said, accusing the boy standing in front of him, his own mother behind him.

“But shoving back is not the answer,” his mother reminded. “Apologize, please.”

Emile sighed but turned to the boy. “Sorry,” he sullenly muttered.

The boy didn’t say anything until his mother nudged him and he said the same. They both walked back to the playground they had been on and looked at each other. “Can we agree that apologizing is dumb and just play tag or something?” the boy asked.

Emile nodded. “Works for me. Saying sorry is only for when you really mean it, anyway.”

####  **January 7th, 2001**

Emile couldn’t deny that things were awkward after Remy’s latest therapy session. He wasn’t proud of it, but he had been trying to  _ avoid _ Remy the past couple of days so that they didn’t wind up in an argument, or worse, a screaming match.

Of course, things couldn’t stay like this forever, with Emile avoiding Remy and Remy just in general being very quiet and walking on eggshells. It was like he was expecting to be hurt, and it made Emile’s blood boil. So on a day where both of them were exhausted from long shifts, and Emile was stressing over his homework, and Remy was worrying about how much food they had in the refrigerator, Emile slammed a door, Remy jumped a foot and immediately snapped back a, “Hey!” and the dialogue began. “You can’t just slam anything you want when you’re angry, Emile! You  _ know _ I don’t like loud noises!”

“Yeah, and you’ve never told me why, which leads me to a few unsavory ideas, which is what’s making me angry in the first place!” Emile snapped.

Remy growled. “We’re low on food and we barely have enough money for rent, and you’re angry about something that happened years ago?!”

Emile stilled. “So it did happen?”

“Yeah! My mother had a bad habit of getting angry and slamming doors and yelling! Sometimes at other people, mostly just in general! She’d mock whatever anyone said that set her off, and she’d stomp around like she was out for blood!” Remy’s breath heaved in his chest. “She demanded respect, and perfection, and when she didn’t get it, she’d get angry! That’s  _ normal!” _

“That’s not normal, that’s  _ horrifying!” _ Emile exclaimed. “You’re acting like a living breathing doormat when it comes to your parents! You deserve respect!”

“No I don’t!” Remy said, tears streaming down his face. He couldn’t even hold his scowl in place. “What kind of  _ brat _ who can’t even be thankful for what his parents did to him deserves respect?!”

It was then that Emile realized he had miscalculated. Remy would talk big and pretend that nothing bothered him, but underneath that, he was still a person who can and did get hurt. And this was clearly a touchy subject. “Everyone deserves respect, Rem. Everyone deserves to be loved unconditionally. And not just from one or two people, either. Everyone deserves respect from everyone else. While they may not be loved by everyone, most people are loved by several other people, in one way or another.” His voice was measured, trying to avoid shouting, and he just hoped that Remy wouldn’t interpret that as anger at him. Emile tilted his head to the side. “Mind explaining why you don’t agree?”

“I...I don’t...” Remy stammered. “I...my parents...my parents don’t have to respect me.  _ I _ have to respect  _ them. _ That’s how that works. Respect doesn’t have to be a two-way street.”

“Yes it does,” Emile said firmly. “Remy, everyone, no matter how big or small, gay or straight, young or old deserves respect. Because they’re  _ people. _ Living, breathing people with all their own experiences, their own emotions, their own opinions. They’re sentient beings. They deserve respect.”

“But...but then...then...why couldn’t...why couldn’t my parents...respect  _ me? _ If you’re right, then that means my parents...my parents were  _ wrong,” _ he whispered the last word, glancing around fearfully, and it broke Emile’s heart, dimming the fire that had been burning there not even minutes before. He needed to take the gentle approach, while still being straightforward.

“Yes, it does. Because they were,” Emile said firmly. “Listen, Rem. I’m sorry, but your parents weren’t good people. They treated you badly. They hurt you. If they don’t treat you with respect, then they aren’t respectable in my eyes. Full stop. Everyone deserves respect. Everyone deserves to be  _ loved, _ and be taught to  _ love, _ not to  _ fear. _ Because that’s what they did to you, Rem. They taught you fear instead of love, and you’re paying the price for it.”

Remy’s eyes filled with more tears, as he said in a lost, broken voice, “They said they loved me...”

“Maybe they do. But they certainly don’t show it in acceptable ways,” Emile said, taking the few steps needed to cross the kitchen and wrapping his arms around Remy.

Remy hugged Emile back, sobbing into his shoulder, and Emile just hoped that whenever Remy calmed down, he would take what Emile said to heart, so they wouldn’t have to repeat this conversation over again. He hated when they went through the low in the cycle, where Remy was convinced his parents weren’t that bad, that he was overreacting and being a brat, that this, that, and the other thing were what Emile was wrong about when really, those were all signs that a family genuinely cared for you.

He wanted to destroy Remy’s parents, and maybe his grandparents as well, because clearly, they had to get it from somewhere. His siblings and aunts and uncles and cousins got a pass...for now, at least. Emile wouldn’t destroy Toby, ever, because Remy cared about him too much, and he didn’t know how the rest of his family reacted to Remy’s parents’ outrageous demands. But his parents could rot. And Emile knew that wasn’t productive, and Remy probably wouldn’t want to hear it at this point, so he kept that sentiment to himself.

After some time of them just hugging, Remy broke the hug apart, sniffling and looking away, crossing his arms. “Emile...I think my parents neglected me. Like, the actual legal definition.”

Emile felt the need to fight dim down into nothing, leaving only charred remains of the fire behind. “I know,” Emile said softly.

“You don’t,” Remy said, sniffling. “You have parents who genuinely love you and would never do anything to hurt you, even accidentally. You don’t know the half of what I’ve been through these nineteen miserable years.”

Emile winced. “No, I don’t. I said I know in reference to the fact that what they did was neglect. And emotional abuse.”

Remy sighed. He uncrossed his arms, letting them lay limp as his sides. “I’m tired, Emile. I’m so tired.”

“It’s okay to be tired,” Emile said, “So long as you don’t give up the fight entirely. Take a step back, regroup, and tackle this problem a different way.”

Remy laughed, voice still thick with tears. “Every day, you sound more and more like a shrink.”

Emile laughed with him. It felt like the sun was finally beginning to peek through the clouds. “Yeah, well. I suppose that’s a good thing, considering that I want to be a therapist, right?”

Remy rolled his eyes. “You may see it as a good thing, but I’m not so sure.”

“That’s okay,” Emile said, patting Remy’s arm. “So long as I know it’s a good thing, then you can think what you want. It’s my life, so my opinion is the one that matters most.”

Remy blinked. “See, I understand that in concept, but in practice...that’s never been the case. How does that work?”

Emile shrugged. “I’m not sure, it just...does? Like, I want to do something so I weigh the pros and cons, and if I think it’s a good idea, then I do it.”

“And you just...do it?” Remy asked. “There’s no...”

“No what?”

“No one saying it’s a bad idea, or forbidding you from doing it, or whatever?” Remy asked, waving his hands around.

“No. I mean, yeah, sometimes my friends call me a ‘grade-A dumbass’ but like...that’s just friends joking around together. It’s all in good fun, we’ve established it’s not said as an insult, and if I still want to do the thing, they won’t stop me,” Emile explained.

Remy frowned and shook his head. “That sounds...weird. Unnatural.”

“It’s called independence,” Emile said. “And not everyone gets the same amount of it. You’ve never had any and now, all of a sudden, you have all of it. No one can tell you what to do. If you wanted to you could up and quit your job. You could travel the country with nothing to your name but the van you’re using and an old worn-out guitar. And that’s probably...really overwhelming.”

“Yeah,” Remy admitted, running a hand down his face. “I never know if what I’m doing is the ‘right’ thing. Not in the sense of morals, but more in the sense of if I’m going in the direction I’m supposed to be going.”

Emile winced. That sounded particularly difficult, and he knew that a lot of adults struggled with that. “You don’t have to know that, not right away,” Emile said. “You might never know, and that’s okay. So long as you’re happy where you’re at, you have to be doing  _ something _ right.”

Remy let out a breath and nodded. “I’m...I’m sorry for yelling earlier.”

“So am I,” Emile said. “And I’m sorry for slamming the door.”

Remy waved him off. “All things considered, it’s not the worst thing you could have done. And it got us talking again.”

“Still, I caused a flare-up in your trauma. That’s...really not cool,” Emile said.

Remy shrugged. “I won’t hold it against you,” he said.

“You’re being too kind,” Emile said.

“Nah,” Remy said. “If anyone else were to do that, I wouldn’t have forgiven them so easily. But this is you we’re talking about. You never hurt me on purpose, rarely do it on accident, and always apologize if you do.”

Emile blinked. He wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that. Obviously, he didn’t want to hurt Remy, because he didn’t want to hurt anyone. But at the same time, Remy saw that as a big deal. And now Emile knew why, and it made his heart break more. “Of course,” Emile said. “That’s the right thing to do.”

Remy’s smile was a bit bitter. “You see, you say that, but not everyone agrees. That’s why you’re so important, Emile. Because you see those things that might hurt me as things that might hurt me. And rather than taking your chances, you avoid them. You’re...you’re important. To me.”

Wow. “You’re...putting a lot of faith in me,” Emile said.

Remy shrugged. “I like to think that you would have the same faith in me. If not now, then one day. When I know what I’m doing when it comes to making friends, and being a normal human being.”

“Rem, if there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years,” Emile said, giving his friend a small grin. “It’s that there’s no such thing as a ‘normal human being.’ No need to strive for something that doesn’t exist.”

“What should I strive for instead, then?” Remy asked.

Emile shrugged, looking around. “Why not being happy where you are? Being happy with  _ who _ you are? Just...loving the moment. That’s always been my goal in the past, and I think it worked out well for me.”

“You think so?” Remy asked.

“Yeah, I do. I mean, I’m happy to be here with you, and studying all the while to follow my dreams. It’s nice,” Emile said. “And while it’s not the perfect situation, and we definitely need to figure out where to cut back in expenses so we can afford more food, and maybe a chair or two, it’s nice. I’m not sure if there is such a thing as a ‘perfect situation’ in all honesty. So I just relax, remind myself of why I’m happy, and just like that, my mood improves, and I’m content.”

“Wow. You...clearly do not have that many mental health issues,” Remy laughed.

Emile shook his head. “You worry me, Rem. I’ve had my bad days, but it’s true that I haven’t struggled with depression, or PTSD, or anxiety to the degree you have. It’s still a therapeutic technique that helps, though. I’d recommend trying it.”

“Right, because that will solve all my problems,” Remy sighed.

“It’s not meant to solve all your problems.”

“I know it’s not, I’m just not looking forward to trying it,” Remy said. “But for you, I’ll give it a shot.”


	19. Chapter 19

####  **October 5th, 1998**

Remy didn’t know why he was so obsessed with this. He had seen girls in dresses before all the time. He didn’t know why he was noticing it a lot more today, but all the girls in high school wearing skirts and dresses...he was having a hard time not staring.

A couple kids called him out for staring and laughed, and he quickly moved away, trying to become invisible. If his parents found out about this, he was as good as dead. Ironic, considering he thought they wanted him to like girls. Life wasn’t fair, he decided. If he had been born a girl, maybe he would have gotten a little more of a chance. His mother always doted on Vanessa, so maybe he could have gotten her attention that way.

Life wasn’t fair. But maybe, one day, if he was lucky, he would get to find someone  _ in _ his life who was fair.

####  **January 30th, 2001**

Remy was wandering down the thrift store aisles with Emile, looking at everything he could, within reason and within Emile’s patience levels. He pointed to a chair sitting on top of a table which looked a little worn but still functional. “No,” Emile said. “No upholstery. You never know what creepy-crawlies might have made their home in there.”

“It might be hard to find something with  _ no _ upholstery,” Remy pointed out.

Emile sighed. “Fine. Limited upholstery. In the sense that rodents wouldn’t be able to fit in them.”

“Cool,” Remy gave Emile a thumbs-up. Something caught his eye behind a bookshelf and he darted between it and whooped. “Emile, get over here!”

“What?” Emile asked, walking over. “And could you please not yell? It’s not  _ that _ big of a deal, I’m sure.”

“Oh really?” Remy asked. “A four-chair and card table set for only  _ twenty bucks _ isn’t a big deal?”

“Get out,” Emile said, checking the price tag. “And the chairs are included?”

“They’re tied to the table, Emile, and none of them have seperate price tags. They’ve gotta be together. Plus, it looks almost new, so no chance for mice or bugs!” Remy cheered. “We don’t have to sit on the floor any more!”

Emile and Remy high-fived, and immediately got to work lifting the table and carrying it to the check-out. They might not have been able to haul it around with them if they looked for any more furniture, but they definitely weren’t losing this to some other desperate pair of college-aged kids trying to furnish their apartment.

They got a couple weird looks carrying the table and chairs out to Emile’s car, but they managed to stuff the foldable chairs in the trunk, and stuck the table in the back of the car. “Should we look for anything else?” Remy asked Emile, once they had closed and locked the car.

“I mean we may as well,” Emile said with a shrug. “Even if we don’t find anything. It would be nice to get a TV stand, although I don’t think we could fit that in my car along with the table and chairs.”

“True,” Remy said. “But we might be able to find clothes or books we might like.”

“Also true,” Emile said.

The two of them walked back inside, this time looking more at the clothes than the furniture. Remy laughed every time Emile showed interest in a sweater or a sweater vest, not really poking fun but more just saying how predictable that was. Something was bugging him, though.

He couldn’t put his finger on it, exactly, but standing in the men’s section and looking at typical T-shirts and jeans and button-ups felt...wrong, somehow. Something in his mind was begging him to check out the women’s section, to look at the dresses or at least the skirts, to look at pastel or bright colors, instead of the same-old same-old neutral tones that the men’s section always had. He looked over there to find a few women looking through the section, and he inwardly sighed. He wouldn’t be able to go over there to look at dresses, not if other people were already over there.

But wait, he wasn’t supposed to want those things anyway, right? He was a man. He definitely wasn’t a woman, so he had to be a guy. And guys didn’t wear dresses or skirts unless they were in drag for some reason, and Remy wasn’t the type to dress in drag.

“Remy?” Emile asked, placing a hand on Remy’s shoulder.

Remy snapped back into the present and looked at Emile. “What was that? What did you say?” he asked.

“You okay? You seemed to zone out there,” Emile said.

“I’m fine,” Remy said, even though he felt anything but. He felt like his voice was too deep, and he hated the fact that his clothes weren’t form-fitting, and his form in general felt wrong too. “Just got caught in my own head.”

Emile looked doubtful, but Remy just shrugged. “Look, even  _ if _ there’s something up, I don’t know how to explain it,” he said.

“Okay,” Emile said, seeming slightly more appeased by this answer. “Do you see anything you like?”

Remy looked around. He shifted through the button-ups, because he needed  _ some _ formal wear occasionally, and found a light, pastel blue shirt that was maybe a little tighter than his normal shirts, but nowhere near too small for him. “I like this,” he said, daring Emile to question him.

“Not what I would have seen you going for, but okay,” Emile said. “I know you have dress pants, or at least dark pants that can pass for dress pants, so I suggest if you have no interest in that, that we skip that area of clothing.”

Remy nodded, and they went from the shirts to the casual pants. Remy rolled his eyes at the argyle sweater vests Emile had picked out. He certainly looked like a basic man with basic fashion tastes who wanted to be a therapist.

They got to the jeans, and Remy immediately knew what he had to get. He couldn’t stand all his jeans being...not baggy, but not tight enough. He did well enough with his pairs of skinny jeans when he went out to flirt with guys, but he really wanted something tighter. Something that showed off his butt. He didn’t know why, but he really wanted something along the lines of what Emile’s feminine friends sometimes wore when they went to a party. Tight jeans that showed off everything they had to offer.

As Emile looked through the jeans for something that might be suitable for casual workdays, something that could get dirty, Remy was fishing through the jeans looking for something that would fit his hips but still show off what he wanted to flaunt.

He found a pair of black skinny jeans, which he knew were just this side of uncomfortable and ill-fitting. They had a few thin spots, but Remy could work with a distressed look. He checked the price tag. Two bucks. Complete score.

Emile looked over at what he pulled off the rack and he arched his eyebrows. “Are those gonna be too tight?”

“Nope, they look perfect,” Remy said. “I notice some of your friends wear jeans like these to party, maybe they’ll work for me, too.”

“Whatever you say, girl,” Emile joked.

Remy didn’t know why, but something in his chest settled at that and he visibly relaxed. It just felt...right.

Emile picked up on it, too. “What? What did I say?”

“I...don’t know,” Remy said, frowning. “I just...guess that you not judging is good. Helps me feel more at ease.”

“Right...” Emile said, and Remy knew he wasn’t buying it. “You know, if you ever want me to call you something besides Remy, you can tell me?”

“Nah, Remy’s fine. So’s Rem, for that matter,” Remy brushed off. “I’m not a transgender woman shoved deep into the closet. I just...don’t always like having to be...like, super masculine to be seen as a man. Why can’t guys wear skinny jeans or pastel colors?”

“Understandable,” Emile said. “I never picked you out for that type, but then again, you never struck me as a super manly jock. Just like...your average dude on a college campus.”

“Yeah,” Remy said, although the word “dude” was leaving a sour taste in his mouth. Like something was inherently  _ wrong _ about it. He’d felt this way before, vaguely, but had never put much focus on it until now. He knew it would probably disappear tomorrow, but today, he was going to have issues.

“Hey, Rem,” Emile said. “You have any idea what jeans would be good for work and can still, you know...fit me?”

“We can see if there’s any good work pants here,” Remy allowed. “Let me see.”

Having a task to complete definitely made him feel better. He helped Emile pick out a pair of jeans and they went to the front of the store to buy the clothes they had found. Then, sticking them in the back of the car, Remy and Emile got ready to go home. “I’m so excited to have chairs,” Remy laughed. “I never thought I’d see chairs as exciting.”

“I know, and a table!” Emile exclaimed. “An actual table! That we can sit at with those chairs! It’s great!”

“Is this what adulthood is like?” Remy asked. “Just a series of getting excited over little things like being able to afford chairs and a table?”

“I’m not sure,” Emile said with a laugh. “But I do know that if it is, we’re gonna be super excited when we can upgrade from an apartment to a house.”

“That’s a thing we can do?!” Remy asked.

“Either together or with significant others, yeah,” Emile said. “I wouldn’t be able to get a townhouse on my own, and I doubt you could either, but one day, it might be cheaper to have a mortgage than to rent, and you know what? That could be pretty exciting. Having a  _ whole house! _ Like, imagine all that space!”

“Space to raise kids,” Remy mused.

“I’m not sure about kids,” Emile laughed. “Although I have considered donating my sperm before.”

“Why?” Remy asked with a laugh.

Emile shrugged. “I just figured that if people want to have kids, but either don’t have someone in their life willing to be a sperm donor, or their partners just have...other issues...then I could help them out, you know?”

“You don’t even get paid for it, though!” Remy exclaimed.

Emile shrugged. “So? I’d get to help people. That’s sort of what I do. And...think about it. It’s super easy to do.”

Remy grew quiet. Emile was serious about this, which confused him. Still, he wanted to show his support somehow. “You know what? If you want to do it, you should do it,” Remy said. “You’d be a catch for the ladies at the bank, I’m sure of that. Just...I don’t know. What happens if those kids get in trouble somehow? Would they call upon you to help them, since you’re biologically family?”

“I doubt it,” Emile said. “Even if I was a public donor, I never even have to know if someone used it or not. And I wouldn’t demand like...visitation rights or anything. These women could have kids, and raise them either on their own or with their partners, provided they have partners, you know? And I never have to be a part of their lives, outside being the person who donated the sperm to help them conceive.”

“Just like that?” Remy asked.

“Just like that,” Emile agreed. “Go in, donate, leave, and I never have to worry about it again. And I get the opportunity to help people, without much, if any, effort.”

“Huh,” Remy said. He supposed that was in character for Emile. “You should do it sometime, if you want to.”

“I’d have to consider it more,” Emile said. “But yeah...if I decide I want to do it, I will.”

They lapsed into silence until they got back to their place, and then they worked on getting the table and chairs inside their apartment. They set it up and high-fived, before grabbing their new clothes from the car.

Remy immediately scurried into his room, stripping himself of the jeans that felt wrong and the shirt that seemed too dark, too cool-toned to have any sort of life in it. He pulled on the new jeans and grabbed a loose, flowy shirt that was almost too big for him, and he walked out of his room, heading to the bathroom to see his reflection.

Inspecting himself, he did look...somewhat feminine. Not overly so, but the jeans did show off his butt more, and the shirt mostly hid the fact that his chest was flat. He gave himself a small, somewhat uncertain smile. If this was the closest he could ever get to feminine, he would take it. It made the feelings bearable, for the most part, and made him feel confident.

He walked out of the bathroom, and Emile gave him a once-over from their new table. Remy was worried he might say something about the outfit, something that would make Remy need to tear it off immediately, but Emile just smiled. “Looking good, girl.”

Remy laughed, and the tension left his shoulders. “Thanks, I know!” he said, flashing a genuine grin.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All I can say about this chapter is...please don't kill me. Otherwise this will be the last chapter that gets posted, and no one wants that!

####  **January 23rd, 2001**

“Ew, Valentine’s Day is coming up,” Remy said, checking their calendar and wrinkling his nose.

“What’s wrong with Valentine’s?” Emile asked.

“It’s an excuse for people to raise the price of roses and chocolates and if you so much as think that it’s not a big deal, you get two dozen people in your face trying to tell you otherwise,” Remy said. “Commercialism at its finest.”

Emile laughed. “I like Valentine’s. It’s a day where you can show who you love without any worry about being shamed or picked on for it, because you’re supposed to be a sap on Valentine’s day.”

“Of course you’d see it that way, you’re bi,” Remy scoffed. “You don’t have to hide your romantic intents from the world if you want to feel safe.”

Emile was stunned, and when the silence prolonged, Remy went back to whatever he had been doing before. But Emile was still reeling. Did Remy not...feel safe pursuing love most of the time?

If that was the case, why did he tolerate Emile being close with him?

####  **February 14th, 2001**

Emile saw Remy wearing that outfit again, the one that he had worn when they had gotten back from the thrift shop. He didn’t know what that outfit signified to Remy, but it was certainly important. Emile smiled at Remy as they both worked around each other for breakfast. “Morning, girl,” he said casually.

Remy nodded, almost as if he didn’t realize Emile had used “girl” for him...her? No, Remy said he wasn’t a trans woman, so it must have been him. Emile continued to butter his toast until Remy said, “You know, you can’t just call me girl in front of your friends or at my work.”

“Well, if you start doing it to me, too, everyone will assume it’s an inside joke or something. And it seems to make you comfortable, and I want you to be comfortable,” Emile said.

Remy turned to him, and Emile winced at the look on Remy’s face. “Still, I’d rather not risk it just yet, you know? Just using ‘Remy’ or ‘Rem’ is fine.”

The fear in Remy’s eyes hurt Emile. “Okay,” he said. “Should I avoid pronouns?”

“Nah. I’m still a guy, Emile. I just feel more feminine today,” Remy said, pouring himself coffee. “He and him are fine. Maybe avoid calling me ‘dude,’ because that just feels weird, but I’m not picky about pronouns.”

“Have you ever considered...you might be trans?” Emile asked.

“I have,” Remy said. “And there are days where I wish I had been born a girl. But it more has to do with how my mother treated Vanessa, I think. It’s not even a permanent thing. I don’t always wish that, I don’t even wish for it often. Today I just...I don’t know. I feel more like indulging my feminine side.”

“Okay,” Emile said. He didn’t think much more of it. He had heard some individuals talk about people who didn’t feel like a guy or a girl, but Remy had said he felt like a feminine guy, so he didn’t identify with...whatever they called that label. He hadn’t come across it often. “Got any plans for Valentine’s today?”

“Not really,” Remy said. “We could go to the club, but that hasn’t been as much fun lately. I don’t have anyone who’d be willing to be my date, either, so I’m probably just gonna be stuck here for the night.”

“Who says that you’ll be stuck here for the night?” Emile asked. “If you don’t have plans we could go out together as friends.”

“On  _ Valentine’s Day?! _ Are you crazy?!” Remy asked.

“I mean, people have called me crazy before, but I don’t understand the correlation here,” Emile replied simply.

“People will think we’re a  _ couple, _ Emile!” Remy exclaimed.

“And that’s...a  _ bad _ thing?” Emile asked.

“It’s not  _ bad, _ but it’s not...it’s not good, either,” Remy said, looking away and blushing deeply.

“Why are you so embarrassed?” Emile asked. “You don’t...see me being around as a bad thing, do you? It’s not that you don’t want to associate with me?”

“It’s not that at all!” Remy exclaimed. He crossed his arms. “I love getting to hang around with you! It’s just...on Valentine’s, people will definitely think we’re an item.”

“But you’re not trying to get any guys to date you as of late, so why is that a bad thing?” Emile pressed.

Remy threw his hands up in the air as he exclaimed, “Because maybe I  _ want _ that to be the case and it hurts when I remember it isn’t!”

The apartment fell silent. Emile stood there, thoroughly shocked. How was he supposed to respond to that? He stood, rooted in his spot, unable to move. Remy was staring at him expectantly, before his eyes dropped to the floor. “You don’t feel the same,” Remy said, voice hollow.

“Rem, I—”

“No, it’s okay, Emile,” Remy said, hugging himself. “I knew it was a long shot anyway. After all, you’re always so insistent that we’re friends. Nothing more. It’s fine that you don’t feel the same way.”

“I...just because I don’t have feelings for you like that, Rem, doesn’t mean I don’t care about you,” Emile said. “You’re my best friend. And I know that might not be what you want, but it’s no small feat, either. I wouldn’t suggest dinner out on Valentine’s with just any friend.”

Remy took a shaky breath and Emile could feel his heart starting to break. He hoped that Remy wasn’t regretting being friends with Emile. “I’m so stupid,” Remy muttered, voice choked up. “I told myself, no catching feelings. And what do I do? I get feelings and make a fool of myself, on Valentine’s Day no less.”

“Hey, Remy, no,” Emile said. “You’re not stupid, and you didn’t make a fool out of yourself, okay? It’s all right. I just...I don’t...I know this probably doesn’t help right now, but this doesn’t change anything. You’re still my best friend.”

“You’re right, that doesn’t help,” Remy spat, but the venom didn’t seem directed at Emile. “I need...I need some time. Do you...don’t you have a shift today?”

“Yeah,” Emile said. “Yeah, I do. I’ll be out of your hair soon enough.”

Remy sniffled, and Emile reached out a hand, but Remy flinched away. He grabbed his coffee, grabbed a granola bar, and retreated to his room. Emile watched him go, feeling a heavy weight settle in his chest. There was nothing he could do to help Remy right now. When he got back from work, maybe they could talk as they watched TV. But Emile had to eat and run.

So that’s what he did. He ate his toast quickly, put the plate in the sink, changed into his uniform, and left the apartment. After the door closed, faint screaming could be heard, and tears welled up in Emile’s eyes. He didn’t mean to hurt Remy, not ever, but especially not like this. He was worried. He really didn’t want Remy to do anything drastic while Emile was gone, but there wasn’t anything he could do.

Still, today was a Wednesday, and with any luck, Remy would be able to talk about this in therapy. Emile hoped that Remy would hold out that long as he got in his car and drove to work. He had classes afterwards, and the next time he’d be home was when it was time to give Remy a ride to his therapy appointment. He had been hoping that they might be able to do dinner afterwards, but clearly, that wasn’t going to be good for either of them.

Emile spent the whole day thinking about Remy with worry. Remy had a shift at work for the lunch rush, but other than that he wasn’t doing anything. That left him with a lot of time to think, a lot of time to do something drastic if he decided it was time for that. Emile nearly snapped his pencil in two in class when he realized that Remy could very well be hurting himself as he sat here, taking notes.

Swallowing thickly, the second class was over he sprinted out of there, getting into his car and driving home. He sprinted up the apartment steps, tears clouding his eyes. He flung the door to the apartment open wide, and called, “Remy?!”

He got no immediate response, and his heart leapt into his throat. He closed the door, setting down his stuff at their table. He turned to find Remy sitting on the floor in front of the TV, eyes glassy. “Remy?” Emile asked, walking over and crouching down in front of him. “Remy, are you okay?”

Remy finally seemed to notice his presence. “Emile?” he asked. “Class over already?”

“Yeah, we’ve gotta get to therapy soon,” he said. “You okay?”

Remy looked away from Emile and sighed. “I’ve been thinking about what you said this morning,” he said. “And...and I’m glad that even if we can’t be together, we can still be friends. Because...because I don’t want to lose you.”

Emile sagged in relief. “Good,” he said. “I was worried all day that you would do something drastic.”

Remy snorted. “Nah. I’m not really the self-harm type. Besides...” Remy trailed off. “I’m not sure if you want to hear that, actually.”

“Besides what? It’s okay,” Emile said, standing and offering Remy a hand.

Remy took it and stood. “I knew that if I hurt myself you wouldn’t approve,” he said. “And you’d blame yourself. And I don’t want that.”

Emile smiled softly. “You think of me with that?”

“Is that weird?” Remy asked.

“If it keeps you from hurting yourself, I’m all for it,” Emile said. “I don’t think it’s weird at all. Plenty of people have lists of reasons not to harm themselves or others.”

“Ah. So I’m not unique in this scenario,” Remy said with a chuckle.

“Not a bad thing,” Emile pointed out. “It means you can relate to other people and they might be able to help you add to that list.”

“Mm,” Remy hummed.

“Remy...you’re not drunk, are you? Or high?” Emile asked.

“No,” Remy said. “I did have...a very long nap this morning, and then worked a three-hour shift, and then came home and sat down, and slept more, I guess. So I’m just...very very groggy.”

“Do you still think you’re up for therapy?” Emile asked.

“I don’t know, but I know I need to talk about this morning with  _ someone,” _ Remy said. “So I guess I’m going.”

Emile paused. He didn’t want to apologize to Remy, because he wasn’t sorry about being honest about how he felt in their relationship. But at the same time, his heart ached to see Remy like this. “Hey, Rem?” Emile asked.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t beat yourself up over this, all right?” Emile pleaded. “I’m glad you told me. That’s better than suffering in silence while I take you on pseudo-dates that wind up hurting you more. And if you want, we can stop going out for dinner together as much, if you think that would help.”

Remy shrugged. “I can’t guarantee I won’t beat myself up,” he said. “But I don’t want us to stop the dinners. Maybe just...once a month or so instead? Make it a special treat, maybe invite some of your other friends. You know, make it feel less like a date.”

“I can work with that,” Emile readily agreed. “You ready to go?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Remy said with a sigh. He grabbed his leather jacket and Emile laughed. “I almost regret getting you that thing, you’re gonna wear it through.”

Remy made a concerned noise. “But I love it, you can’t say you regret getting me something I love!”

“I said ‘almost,’ Rem,” Emile said. “And besides, I’m not the one who’ll have to buy you a new one when you wear through the old one you have now. That duty will fall onto you. Or your significant other at the time, who knows.”

“I don’t really want to think about significant others at the moment, Emile,” Remy sighed.

“Fair enough,” Emile said.

They drove to the office that held the therapy practice, and Emile dropped Remy off before going to the store and buying the cheapest candy they had left, a bunch of Tootsie Pops tied with ribbon. Hopefully Remy wouldn’t take the peace offering too poorly.

When he got back to the therapy practice, it was just as Remy was walking out of the back office. It was clear to Emile that Remy had been crying somewhat. But he smiled when he saw Emile, which Emile would take as a win. “Hey, I got you something that we can share, if you want,” he said, offering the bouquet of lollipops out to Remy.

Remy laughed, genuinely, and took a grape one from the bunch. “Sure, why not, you dork,” he said.

Emile grinned and took that, too, as a win. “I would argue that you’re the bigger dork.”

“You keep telling yourself that, girl,” Remy said with a grin. “But I’ll always know the truth. You’re the best worst dork I know.”


	21. Chapter 21

####  **February 14th, 1999**

Remy sighed. Another Valentine’s, another reminder that he was alone and couldn’t ever tell his parents why he never came home with any girlfriends. He hated Valentine’s for years, now, ever since he realized that his parents saw being gay as “bad” and that he wouldn’t be accepted if he brought home a boyfriend.

Toby had called briefly to say hi to his parents, but Remy didn’t get the chance to say anything. This sucked. He felt well and truly alone. Would there ever be someone out there who decided he was worth the trouble? He doubted it.

He didn’t even know why he was bothered. He didn’t want friends, so significant others were definitely out of the question. He just needed to focus on studying. Then maybe he could get out from under his parents’ thumb.

####  **February 24th, 2001**

Remy couldn’t say he had been surprised by Emile’s reaction on Valentine’s Day. Honestly, he was more surprised that Emile said he still wanted to be best friends than the fact that Emile wasn’t interested. That had come out of left field, to be sure.

Lying on his back in bed, Remy contemplated the merits of getting up. He had no shifts today, which meant if he wanted to he could just sleep the entire day. But no, Emile probably wouldn’t like that, so he got up and out of bed.

He walked into the kitchen and sighed, looking around somewhat despondently. Emile had taken the weekend to spend time with his parents. A two hour drive both ways, Remy doubted he would ever be that dedicated to stay in touch with his family. But if Emile needed a break from him, well, Remy wouldn’t exactly blame Emile for that.

Of course, without Emile there, and no shifts at work, Remy was left with nothing to do, and he was restless. Too restless to even go help at the shelter. He’d be pacing around or getting caught in his own head and he definitely didn’t want to make the people at the shelter have a harder time than necessary.

He passed most of the morning just by pacing the apartment. By the early afternoon, he grabbed his coat and decided to walk  _ outside, _ if only so that he didn’t wear a hole in the floor.

Time passed a little quicker as he explored the town. There weren’t a lot of places to go, but he was focusing more on the getting there, anyway. And besides, if he was going to live here a while, he may as well learn where everything was and how long it took to get there on foot, because affording a car wasn’t an option just yet.

He ignored when tears welled up in his eyes from the remaining grief he was getting from this whole situation. He ignored the utter ache in his chest when he thought about Emile’s smile. He ignored the braided string of anger, jealousy, and devastation when he thought about Emile’s affections going to someone else. Emile didn’t want him. He had to accept that and move on. And the sooner he got over it, the sooner he could have a different relationship. One with a guy who genuinely loved him, and wasn’t just trying to spare his feelings.

After a while, the sun had started to set and Remy’s stomach was snarling. He walked to the nearest fast food place, grabbed something quick to eat, and moved on. He found himself gravitating towards the buildings just off the college campus. He knew they were having parties virtually every night. Maybe he could find someone to take his mind off Emile.

Maybe he could drown his sorrows in alcohol. After all, that was what would happen if he drank, and he wasn’t known for his self-control.

He laughed. He really  _ was _ messed up. He didn’t want to start abusing alcohol, especially when he wasn’t even twenty yet.

As he walked past most of the houses, he saw someone dash out of one of the doors. “Yo, Remy!”

Remy turned to see a guy who he didn’t recognize jogging up to him. “You  _ are _ Remy, right? Emile’s friend?”

“The friend thing is debatable right now, but yeah, I know the guy,” Remy said.

“Thought so!” the guy said triumphantly. “The two of us share a psych class. I needed the credits in social sciences, and he seems to be really into that kind of stuff, and we kinda hit it off. He talks about you a  _ lot, _ man.”

“Does he?” Remy asked, feeling like his voice was hollow but unable to do anything about it.

“Yeah,” the guy said. “He talks about you all the time, like he’s super proud of you. And according to him, you seem like a pretty cool guy. What has you wandering the streets tonight?”

“Emile and I share an apartment, and he’s visiting his folks today and tomorrow. I don’t like the silence in our apartment,” Remy said.

“You two...a thing?” the guy asked in a low whisper. “I don’t wanna out you, but I know he’s bi, and between the two of us, I’m questioning.”

Remy laughed. “No. I wish,” he said. “He’s cute, and sweet, and kind. But he’s not interested in me.”

“That sucks, man,” the guy said. “Name’s Theo.”

“Nice to meet you, Theo,” Remy said with a sigh. “Any particular reason you came out here yelling my name as you saw me pass by, or were you genuinely curious about why I’m on a walk?”

“Well, some of my friends and I are having a party in like, twenty minutes,” Theo said, pointing over his shoulder to the house. “If you don’t have anywhere to go, and you don’t want to be alone for the rest of the night, you’re welcome to hang out.”

Remy considered. This was a chance for him to make his own friends, do his own thing. He relied on Emile’s social circles too much, most of the time. His therapist Kim said he should get out more, find his own people. This could be his chance. “You know what? Sure, why not.”

Theo grinned and slapped Remy on the back, guiding him inside the house he and his friends shared. Just by looking at it, Remy could tell it was more of a fraternity than just a couple dudes splitting rent. One guy was hooking up speakers, another was working on making punch. Theo guided Remy to the couch.

They talked a little bit, mostly about Theo’s classes and how he was graduating next year. Remy nodded along, occasionally asking a question or two here and there.

People started to trickle in, and Theo went to grab a beer, but the two of them kept talking. Remy liked Theo well enough. He was sweet, but also a little cocky. He had the confidence to pull off anything he wanted, but the morals to keep him from just destroying anyone who came across his path, and Remy respected that.

As Theo drank more, his stories got more outlandish, causing Remy to laugh. The more they talked, the closer together on the couch they were. Other people would come and go from where they were sitting, mostly to use the other half of the couch to make out for a minute or two before finding somewhere else to continue.

Theo had his hand on Remy’s knee and was telling the story about how he first realized he might be bisexual because of some jock on the football team. Remy was laughing as Theo went into a rather in-depth description of the guy. The kind of guy Remy would have drooled over in high school. But as his laughter died down, and Theo was chuckling softly, he noticed they were close enough that Remy could feel the heat radiating from Theo’s body. He looked at Theo’s eyes, sparkling in the dim light from the kitchen. Theo was looking back at him, and both pairs of their laughter trailed off completely.

Remy tilted his head to the side, and Theo leaned in a little more, and their lips came together in a desperate crash. Remy’s lips moved in time with Theo’s, and Theo was laughing again, causing Remy to giggle, and as Theo wound up being more on top of Remy than anything else, Remy gently pushed him off. Theo was briefly confused, until Remy whispered in his ear. “Do you have your own room? Somewhere a little more...private?”

Theo grinned at Remy and nodded, grabbing his hand and guiding him upstairs. His room was at the end of the hall, and as soon as Theo closed the door Remy was kissing him again. He was wild, and desperate, and needed the distraction. “Tell me you have protection,” Remy murmured in between kisses.

“That, and lube, don’t worry,” Theo said, trailing kisses down Remy’s neck. “I’ll make sure you don’t get hurt.”

Remy was pulling at Theo’s shirt, desperate to feel a little more skin, to feel the heat radiating from his body. His build felt wrong, nothing at all like what he imagined Emile to feel like, but this wasn’t Emile. This was a one-night stand that neither of them needed to do anything about after the fact.

Theo pulled down Remy’s pants and Remy felt his heart leap into his throat. “Wait...wait,” he breathed.

A little reluctantly, Theo pulled back. “What’s up?”

“It’s...um...this is my...uh...”

“First time with a guy? Mine too, but I know how this works,” Theo said, moving back in to kiss Remy.

“No...no. Theo. Stop. It’s my first time. Ever,” Remy said.

Theo pulled back. “Really?” he asked.

Remy swallowed and nodded. “I’ve...like...done stuff by myself, but never with...with anyone else.”

“You’re a virgin,” Theo filled in.

“I...yeah,” Remy agreed. “And I’m a little...scared.”

Theo pulled back completely, and he scratched the back of his neck. “Oh. I don’t want you to be scared your first time, man.”

“I mean, isn’t that normal?” Remy asked.

“Nervous? Yes. Scared? No. You shouldn’t be scared about your first time, or any time after that, for that matter,” Theo said. “Pull your pants back up.”

Remy did so, turning crimson. “I’m sorry,” he stammered out. “I thought...I thought I could do this, I’ve seen it done often enough, but I just...”

“Hey, Remy, it’s okay,” Theo said softly. “Let me give you some advice. No matter if you’re gay, straight, bi, whatever? You shouldn’t be scared over having sex with someone. It’s something...super intimate. It’s seen as special in just about every culture out there. So of course, you’re going to be nervous when you do it with someone new, especially if you grew up in a strict household, or you had to find out that you were gay through the Internet. Nervous is normal. But you should never be scared. If you’re scared about having sex with someone, you’re not ready. And that’s perfectly okay.”

“What...what should I feel, then, for my first time?” Remy asked.

“Like I said, nervous is normal,” Theo said. “But your confidence should outshine those nerves. You should be sure that this is something you want, that you’re okay with sharing this part of you with someone else. That you don’t mind being vulnerable around them. And some people can be that comfortable with someone for a one-night stand. Some people can’t. And both ways are fine.” Theo put a hand on Remy’s shoulder. “When you’re ready, you’ll know. And whether that’s with a one-night stand or a significant other, whether it’s your first time or your thousandth, you should always feel sure of yourself.”

“I...okay.” Remy swallowed. “I really am sorry.”

“No hard feelings, Remy. I wasn’t looking for anything serious, I can always find another guy...or girl. You just make sure you’re okay after this experience, all right?”

Remy swallowed but nodded. “Thanks. For the advice, and for being understanding.”

Theo nodded with a smile, and kissed Remy softly, one last time. “If you ever decide you want to have a little fun when you’re ready, feel free to stop by. Or, you know, talk to Emile and see if he can pass the message along, if it’s before the end of May.”

Remy nodded. Theo left the room, and Remy followed, breathing shakily. He had thought he was ready. He thought being a little scared was normal. But apparently, he needed more time. Theo said that wasn’t a bad thing, but it had Remy thinking. How would he tell when he was ready with someone? Who would that someone be? He had no remote clue, and that terrified him.

He left the party soon after, walking home alone in the cold night. He hoped that Theo had a good time tonight with another guy...or girl, like Theo said. Remy knew that  _ he  _ wouldn’t be sleeping anytime soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soo...fun fact...I actually wrote an entire novel's worth of original fiction and sent it in for review last night? And so far, it looks like it's going to be acceptable to put on Amazon, and I'm hyped. No obligation to read it, or anything, just wanted to share the happiness I currently feel. ^-^


	22. Chapter 22

####  **October 24th, 1995**

Emile couldn’t understand what his friends were laughing at, especially considering that they had just been yelled at by some particularly nasty seniors. “What?!” Emile asked. “What’s so funny?”

One of the girls wheezed and said, “You acted just like my big brother does when someone tries to mess with me!”

“Hey, Big Brother is always watching!” one of the guys said. “And it looks like he possessed Emile and he got some of that protective streak running through him!”

They all laughed more, but Emile was just plain old confused. “I didn’t want you guys to be harrassed, how it that a protective streak?”

“That in and of itself isn’t,” the girl said. “But the way you talked to them like a disappointed authority figure is classic big brother energy.”

Emile shook his head. “I don’t understand you guys,” he said.

“That’s okay, Emile,” the guy said. “We love you anyway.”

####  **March 13th, 2001**

Emile was just about to head home after classes, when one of the guys in his Psych class, Theo, ran up to him. “Hey, wait, Emile! Hold up!”

Turning with a smile, Emile waited for Theo to catch his breath. “What’s up, Theo?”

“I just wanted to talk for a minute or two,” Theo said. “Did you know that I saw Remy a couple weeks back at a party at my house?”

Emile blinked, unsure as to where Theo was going with this. “No?”

“Oh, man, he didn’t tell you any of that?!” Theo asked.

“Tell me what?” Emile asked, starting to feel his heart race.

Theo glanced around to make sure no one was listening before he stage-whispered, “You told me he was a fun guy, Emile, but you never told me he’s a fantastic kisser!”

Emile felt his thought process completely stop at that declaration. Did he hear that right? Surely, he must have. And Remy had been acting differently lately. Not more secretive, or anything like that, but he was trying to go the extra mile to be nice. Emile wasn’t sure what had brought that on. Could this have had something to do with it? “You kissed him?”

“Well, we kissed each other,” Theo said. “It was consensual and everything, man, but that night...it was completely crazy. He...we...well, we almost went all the way, if you catch my drift.”

Emile short-circuited and his jaw dropped open. “You did what?!”

“Easy, Emile! Nothing serious happened!” Theo said, holding his hands up in surrender. “He was scared, and I told him he shouldn’t be scared when he wanted to do it with someone. Don’t tell him this, but I think that’s the farthest he ever went with someone else. Like, pants were going down and everything before he froze like a deer in headlights. I gave him some advice about what he should expect his first time with someone new, and we went our separate ways. But...I don’t know, man, I’m a little worried about him. Do you think you could like...pass on a message for me, or at least give him my number? I want to make sure he’s doing okay.”

Emile felt a streak of red...green...hot...sickening... _ something _ rush through him as he fought the instinct to say “no.” He shrugged. “I’ll see what I can do?” he asked. “Are you two...like...a thing? Or do you want to be?”

“I dunno, man. I think that really all depends on how he feels about it,” Theo said.

That made Emile feel even worse, and he couldn’t even articulate why. “Oh. I just thought...if you two tried stuff...you would be a little more serious.”

Theo shrugged. “It was gonna be a one-night stand, both of us had that in mind. But...yeah...he wasn’t ready. And that’s cool and all, but then he slipped out without another word, and he just sorta...disappeared. Completely off my radar. And, well. I worry.”

Emile nodded. “Yeah. Uh. Sure. I can talk to him, see if he wants to talk to you,” he said.

Theo grinned. “Thanks, Emile. You’re a real good guy.”

Emile felt his blood pressure rise as Theo ran off, high-fiving some of his friends. He  _ had _ thought that he and Remy were good. He thought that they had everything worked out after Remy’s little declaration. But then Remy went on a rebound of sorts, and didn’t tell Emile? Emile was under the impression that Remy told him everything.

As he went back to the apartment, Emile tried to fight down the bile that was creeping up his throat. Theo was a good guy. Nice, funny, sometimes a little too confident for his own good, but at the end of the day he was good. Except Emile knew he was questioning, not entirely sure if he was bi or not, and if he and Remy had something, and then Theo decided he didn’t like guys, Remy would be crushed. He’d feel cast aside and he could potentially spiral. Emile didn’t want that.

When Emile got back, he headed to his room, dropping his stuff on the bed and resisting the urge to throw his shoes. He had no right to be mad. This was Remy’s private life, Emile had no say in what Remy shared about it. He ran his hands through his hair and whined. Why did this have to be so  _ hard, _ then?

Remy knocked on Emile’s door, and Emile’s head shot up. “You good, Emile?” Remy asked, like nothing at all was wrong in the world.

Emile worked his jaw, trying to keep from grinding his teeth. “I talked to Theo from my Psych class today.”

“Oh?” Remy asked. “He say anything interesting?”

“Yeah,” Emile growled. “He said he threw a party a couple weeks ago, and you were there.”

Remy frowned, before his eyes widened. “Oh,  _ that _ Theo! I forgot he was in your Psych class! How is he?”

“Worried about you, apparently,” Emile grit out. “Because he said you two almost slept together and he hasn’t heard from you since.”

Remy froze, getting that deer in headlights look that Emile knew all too well. “He said  _ what?!” _ Remy asked.

“Yeah! He said that you two nearly slept together! And you haven’t even let him know that you’re okay afterward!” Emile said, making wide, sweeping gestures. “Listen, Rem, it’s none of my business who you sleep with unless you want to make it my business and tell me, but come  _ on, _ at least let the guy who you  _ did _ do it with know that you’re okay!”

“We didn’t  _ do _ anything!” Remy exclaimed. “We made out a little! That’s it!”

“Oh, really,” Emile spat. “Making out is ‘nothing’ in your book? Do you really think that little of romantic and sexual partners?”

“I didn’t mean it like that and you know it!” Remy exclaimed.

“Oh? And how did you mean it, then?” Emile asked.

“Why do you even care?!” Remy asked. “Like you said, it’s none of your business who I do or don’t sleep with!”

“I  _ thought _ we were  _ friends!” _ Emile exclaimed. “I thought you  _ trusted _ me!”

“I  _ do _ trust you!” Remy shouted back.

“Just not with this!” Emile growled.

Remy ran his hands through his hair. “There is no ‘this,’ Emile, that’s what I’m saying! We almost had sex, so what?! We didn’t actually do it! Theo gave me a little advice, and let me leave. I don’t have his number so I didn’t call him, and I don’t know his schedule so I haven’t gone by his house to talk! I’ll drop him a line! But that’s the end of it!”

Emile’s hands were balled into fists and he was shaking. “Why would you even do that to someone, though? I say I’m not interested in you, so you mope for the next two weeks until you can find some random guy you can charm into bed and be done with the next morning?”

Remy turned red. “You know  _ full well _ that isn’t what happened!”

“Then what  _ did _ happen?!” Emile asked. “Because what you did sounds suspiciously like some sort of rebound!”

“I don’t use people, Emile, you of all people should know that I’ve been getting better about being kind! And I especially don’t use people for sex! Theo and I ran into each other, I went to his place, he and his buddies threw a party, we got along well enough, and we were going to agree to a one-night thing!” Remy’s breath was heaving in his chest. “I thought you had more faith in me than that.”

A pang of guilt resonated in Emile’s chest. “I don’t know you in that area of your life.”

Remy scoffed. “Shocker, considering you turned me down.”

“I’m sorry,” Emile said. “Not for turning you down, but for reacting the way I did to hearing about the party. I just...I don’t want you getting hurt. Theo just wants to experiment. You seemed like you were looking for something serious when you talked to me. And if he decides he doesn’t want to use the bi label, and sticks to girls, well, he could dismiss you. And we both know that you get attached when given half the chance and a friendly environment. I got angry at Theo at first, and then I got angry at you, because I thought if something like what you did were to happen, you’d be comfortable enough to tell me. Especially considering Theo said you seemed rattled.”

Remy shrugged. “I might want something serious with someone one day. Someone who I trust, and who I have romantic feelings for. But I was feeling restless, and I couldn’t stand our empty apartment, and Theo was good company. I thought I was ready, and I wasn’t, so we stopped. That’s what happened. That’s  _ all _ that happened, Emile.”

Emile turned a little pink. “I guess I sounded like some sort of jealous ex, huh?”

“Just a bit,” Remy said with a shy grin. “Don’t worry, I don’t hold it against you. And just so you know? Theo? Is a good kisser. I don’t know what he said about me, but he knew what he was doing.”

Emile felt that same sharp feeling in his chest as when he was talking to Theo. It felt almost like...but it couldn’t be... “He said you were a fantastic kisser,” Emile supplied.

“Oh, nice!” Remy said with a genuine grin, and Emile felt his heart ache more. “Good to know. I can get  _ all _ the boys if I’m a fantastic kisser.”

“No hard feelings?” Emile asked.

“Yeah, don’t worry. I get how finding out your best friend not telling you everything could shock you when you’re used to something different,” Remy said with a shrug. “Now, I need to get ready for my evening shift. I hope your studying goes well tonight!”

Emile stood there in silence until Remy left the apartment, at which point, he left his room and began to pace. Remy kissing Theo and Theo kissing Remy rubbed him the wrong way. Remy nearly being sexually active almost gave Emile a heart attack, and thinking about him kissing anyone, let alone doing anything more, made his stomach churn uncomfortably. Where had this come from? Remy was his best friend, not his brother! This protective streak made no sense! It had no basis in their relationship to each other!

Remy could hold his own in the world, and while Emile had experienced the “older brother protective streak” with his friends before in high school, where he found that name for it...he hadn’t gotten that with Remy before, save for their first Halloween party when Remy was very drunk and getting hit on by someone who was dangerous. Theo wasn’t dangerous. Theo was a good guy, even if he played fast and loose with emotions sometimes. So why was Emile afraid?

Involuntarily, his mind removed Theo from the equation of kissing Remy, and replaced him with several other guys they knew, and Emile felt more nauseated at each option. Until he froze in his pacing, because his brain had replaced Theo with himself, and the nausea immediately went away.

Oh. Oh, no. Oh no no no  _ no. _ This wasn’t protectiveness. This was  _ possessiveness. _ Emile was feeling  _ possessive _ over Remy. But...this wasn’t possessiveness in the sense of being replaced as a best friend. This was possessiveness in the sense that Remy should be  _ his, _ and that no one else should get to lay a hand on him without Emile’s say so. He was acting like a jilted, jealous lover. He was  _ in love _ with Remy.

How was that for irony? Remy had feelings for Emile, and Emile didn’t realize he might feel the same until Remy had apparently moved on. Except...these feelings, this possessiveness hadn’t come up at all before, when Remy would flirt with guys. This was new. Like, he was being extra nice and making the effort to be kind to others new.

“Oh, shit,” Emile muttered. “He  _ just _ became my type.”

Because that’s what his type was. They weren’t perfect, because no one could be. But they tried their best to accommodate others, and made sure that no one was left behind, and they were, overall, just plain kind. And Remy making that extra effort as of late flipped the switch in Emile’s brain. He was  _ in love _ with Remy.

He was  _ so _ screwed.


	23. Chapter 23

####  **February 24th, 2001**

Remy slipped into the night relatively seamlessly, even though he shivered in the cold rain that was starting to settle in. Maybe he shouldn’t have walked all the way to the college campus area. Even Emile drove there every day, and it took him fifteen to twenty minutes to get there on a good day. It would take over an hour to walk back home.

Oh, well, live and learn. Theo’s words were bouncing around in his skull, and he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to react to them. It was certainly sound advice, but how did he apply it?

More importantly, how did he know if he was ready with one person but not with another? How did he know that  _ one specific person _ was the one he wanted? How did he differentiate between the need for a distraction and the need for love?

He didn’t know. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to find out.

####  **March 31st, 2001**

_ “Are you sure about this?” Emile asked, breathless in between their kissing. “Like, really sure?” _

_ Remy lightly nipped Emile’s neck, causing him to shudder, and Remy smiled. “Emile, there’s nothing I’ve been more sure about in my entire life.” _

_ “Okay...okay. I just know you got nervous before, and I didn’t want to pressure you into anything...” _

_ “Good thing I’m asking then, isn’t it?” Remy teased. _

_ “Remy...Remy. Hang on,” Emile said, as Remy dragged Emile to their bedroom. Remy turned around, and he could see the clear worry in Emile’s eyes. “You’re not scared? You’re not pushing yourself into this?” _

_ Remy softened and pulled Emile in for a tender but desperate kiss. “I’m sure, Emile. I want this. I want  _ you.”

_ “Okay, then,” Emile said, and together they fell onto Remy’s bed, already laughing. _

Remy bolted upright in bed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes to check the time. Seven AM.  _ Dammit, _ he thought.  _ Not again. _

He’d been getting dreams about Emile and him being together with increasing frequency for the past couple weeks now, and it was waking him up at all hours of the night. To make matters worse, once he woke up past six, he was up for the day. He was almost always awoken by a “fade to black,” but the most annoying times where when he wasn’t, and he woke up in the middle, realizing it was a dream and feeling miserable.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up with a stretch. No use in trying to fall back asleep when he couldn’t, right?

When he walked out, he found Emile stumbling around the kitchen, slightly coherent but not nearly as much as he usually was when Remy first woke up. “Oh, so you do have days where you’re not a morning person,” Remy laughed. “I was wondering.”

“Mm. Didn’t sleep well,” Emile muttered. “Whatever you’ve been dealing with that’s keeping you up must be rubbing off on me.”

Remy felt an icy tendril of terror down his spine.  _ I certainly hope not. _ “Bad dreams?”

“I can never remember,” Emile said with a shrug. “You?”

“I remember pieces,” Remy lied. He remembered every graphic detail of every last dream. This was driving him nuts. Emile wasn’t even interested in him, he had said so himself. “Nothing important.”

Emile just nodded as Remy held his breath. “Yeah. Hey, random question for you, because I haven’t been able to get this out of my mind.”

“Yeah, shoot,” Remy said, heading to the coffee pot.

“Let’s say if you were serious with someone. Like, you wanted to date them and they wanted to date you, right?”

Remy didn’t like the direction this was taking, but he said, “Yeah?” anyway.

“What would your ideal date be? Maybe not like, a first date, but just a date in general?” Emile asked.

Remy felt his stomach twist in an uncomfortable way. “I don’t know, I guess something dorky and basic, you know? Like dinner and a movie. Why do you ask?”

Emile looked a little pink around the ears as he said, “I was just wondering one day, and it refused to leave my mind, so I decided to put it to rest.”

“Oh,” Remy said. Inwardly, he sighed in relief. Even if he had new fodder for his imagination, with Emile trying to take him on the perfect date, Emile was just curious. That was normal. Emile got curious all the time. It was par for the course. Of course, the fact that he had to ask about Remy’s romantic life did hurt a bit. Just because he still did love Emile, and he knew that Emile couldn’t feel the same. “Any reason that popped into your head?”

“I mean...” Emile shrugged. “Maybe I have a little bit of interest in this one guy...”

“Shut. Up,” Remy said, his brain making a record scratch noise. “You like someone?! Who is it?!”

Emile squirmed. “It’s a little embarrassing, not because of who he is but because of where we are relationship-wise...and I want to see if it lasts beyond a fleeting crush...” he said.

Remy felt his heart be torn into shreds as his brain simultaneously tried to put the pieces together. “Come on, you can tell me, can’t you? This isn’t some revenge on me for not telling you that I was trying to get busy the weekend you were out of town?”

“No, it’s not revenge for that,” Emile was quick to assure. “I just really don’t feel ready.”

“Can you give me hints?” Remy pleaded.

Emile laughed a little, clearly nervous. “Well, he loves coffee. Sometimes it feels like all he does is sleep and drink the stuff. And he’s...he’s trying super hard to be kind to everyone he meets. Like, he always did have it in him to be kind, but he didn’t always use it. Now he is, and I’m...super proud of him for that.”

Remy could feel his heart skipping beats. Emile sounded like he was describing Remy. But, that definitely couldn’t be. That  _ couldn’t _ be the case, because Emile said he wasn’t interested.

_ Yeah, a month and a half ago, _ his brain helpfully pointed out.  _ And a lot can change in a month. _

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were describing me,” Remy teased.

Emile blushed a dark red, and Remy knew this was going one of two ways: he had either hit the nail on the head, or he was close enough to another one of Emile’s friends that Remy wasn’t sure he knew about. And...no matter what he wanted to hope, he was pretty sure Emile wasn’t describing him. “Is this one of your high school buddies? You know, someone you might see over spring break?”

“What?” Emile asked dumbly, before he stammered out, “Uh, y-yeah. Kinda. I’m definitely gonna try and see him over spring break. Even if I’m too chicken to confess to anything, I like getting to spend time with him.”

“You should tell him you like him,” Remy said.

“You...you think so?” Emile asked.

Remy nodded. “Look. You might not love  _ me, _ and I’m coming to terms with that. Slowly, but surely. Doesn’t mean I’ll stop loving you, necessarily, but if you’re happier with someone who’s... _ not _ me, well, then, I want you to be happy.”

Emile smiled weakly. “Don’t get over me  _ too _ quickly. If you’re lucky, I might catch feelings back.”

“If only,” Remy sighed. “Look, Emile, I’m not offended that you don’t like me. Did it hurt? Yeah, but lots of love hurts. It’s not that big of a deal. Is this your way of saying you have feelings for me?”

“Well, no, but...”

“No but’s,” Remy said. “I can’t  _ make _ you love me. And it’s fine that you don’t. Just...if you’re happy with this guy, then be with him. Have fun, go on a date or two. You have my blessing. Not that you need it, but if it’ll make you feel better about this, you have it.”

“I...okay,” Emile said, and his voice was small. He took a deep breath, and said, “What are you planning on doing while I’m on spring break? Like, where I go depends on the hours I get, but do you have any plans?”

“I’d love to go to the beach someday, but probably  _ not _ during spring break. All the college kids are gonna be swarming the place. I guess...I don’t really have any plans,” Remy said with a shrug.

“Then if I have bad hours, why don’t we go out to dinner some night? It’s been a while since we’ve done that,” Emile said, voice growing a bit more confident.

Remy was quiet as he took a long sip of coffee. Then, to be funny, he smirked. “Only if the guy you’re interested in wouldn’t mind,” Remy said with a wink. “Wouldn’t want to get you in trouble with your future boyfriend.”

“Somehow, I don’t think he’ll mind,” Emile said with a laugh. “So dinner. Anywhere in particular you’d like to go?”

“Doesn’t have to be anywhere big,” Remy said. “We could share pizza at any of the joints around here and I’d enjoy it.”

“Cool,” Emile said with a smile. “It’s a date, then!”

“Careful, Emile. Like I said, if you keep saying that, people will think we’re dating.”

Emile laughed, a genuine sound that made Remy grin in response. Things seemed to be returning to normal for them, which Remy was super happy about. Yeah, they might not be dating, but he and Emile were proving inseparable, and that...comforted Remy in a way he couldn’t describe. Like, the world could be ending but at the end of the day he would still have Emile, and that was all that mattered.

“I have class,” Emile said, grabbing the last of his breakfast and heading to his room. “I’ll see you after work?”

“Same bat time, same bat channel,” Remy teased.

Emile stared at him a moment, before squealing and crushing Remy in a hug. As soon as he had done that, though, he had moved to his room, yelling, “I don’t have time to appreciate that properly right now but know that I appreciate it!”

Remy laughed and waved to Emile on his way out of the house. He sighed when Emile was gone, and poured himself a second mug of coffee. He had to get going to work soon, too, so he decided to stick to coffee and toast for today. Remy laughed to himself. Emile had two people in his life who only sustained themselves on coffee and spite? It must have been a very small world indeed.

Remy’s heart wasn’t even hurting anymore, he was so happy that things were going back to normal, and he was excited that Emile was excited for spring break. Plus, they’d get to go out to dinner together, which they hadn’t done in ages. Remy wondered why that had stopped, especially when he said that he didn’t mind it after he confessed his feelings. He felt like it was around the time after he had talked with Theo. He had never known a person to be nice to him just because. Toby was his brother and was obligated to do that to a degree. Emile was nice to him out of spite at first, and then out of attachment later. But Theo was kind to him without even knowing him well, and it opened Remy’s eyes.

You could be kind to someone without them being kind to you first. You weren’t obligated to be nice, but if you  _ were _ nice, people would appreciate your presence more. And on top of that, being nice just...felt good, sometimes. And sure, sometimes being sickeningly sweet and nice to people in retail was done out of spite, but the shy ones or the people who were very clearly having a hard time? If you smiled at them, or wrote them a nice note on their coffee, it made a world of difference. And he found that he liked doing it more.

Sure, it took more effort. Sure, it didn’t come naturally to him. But all things considered, he didn’t mind making the effort to be a little nicer. If he could be a tenth as nice as Emile was, he was sure he could make friends with little to no issues, just by being kind and striking up a conversation. That was new, but it was something he wanted, and something he was willing to work for.

He was going to do this. He was going to tackle the day with a smile on his face, because the world was finally making sense again, and he could handle anything that came his way. Spring break also danced at the corners of his mind, making him smile as he pulled on the lighter of his leather jackets. Dinner with Emile. Even if that wasn’t as a date, if he really wanted to, he could pretend it was. Not that he would really need to, though. He and Emile were best friends, and he was more than happy with that.

Yeah. The world was finally making sense again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Props to anyone who can see where this particular story line is headed. ;)


	24. Chapter 24

####  **May 5th, 2000**

Emile redid his tie for the ten thousandth time, setting it flat against his chest and fiddling with the end of it. He knew he looked good enough, but he was still worried. When he walked downstairs, his mother fawned over him. “Oh, you look so handsome, Emile!” she exclaimed. “Absolutely perfect for prom!”

“Thanks, Mom,” Emile said with a sheepish, mildly flustered smile.

She drove him out to the hotel that was hosting the party, and Emile grinned when he saw his date waiting for him under the awning. Charlie was in the closet to his parents, still, so they couldn’t arrive together, but they were definitely each other’s dates and no one else’s. Emile gave Charlie a quick peck on the lips and asked, “You ready?”

“Let’s dance,” Charlie said with an eager smile.

####  **April 3rd, 2001**

Emile was impossibly proud of himself. Not only had he managed to acquire a date with Remy, but he had managed to keep a majority of the contents a surprise. He drove Remy to the minigolf course with a grin of his face. When Remy saw where they had pulled up, he whistled. “Emile, are you trying to ruin our friendship? Minigolf never ends well for anyone involved.”

“You’ve never played minigolf with  _ me,” _ Emile said, laughing. “I guarantee you I can make it fun, and still kick your butt.”

Remy stared at Emile in shock before popping the collar on his leather jacket. “Okay, you’re on.”

Emile grinned and paid for both of them to play. Remy protested but Emile wouldn’t budge. “It’s my treat, Rem,” he insisted. “No reason to kick up a fuss, because I’m not changing my mind.”

Remy stared at Emile for a long second before he picked out a golf ball and putter. “Oh, fine,” he said. “But if we do anything like this again, I’m paying, understood?”

“Absolutely,” Emile said, with a playful salute.

Remy laughed and shook his head. “You’re such a  _ dork!” _ Remy exclaimed as they moved from the entrance towards the first hole.

“Maybe so, but that’s one of my best qualities!” Emile said with a grin. Remy laughed and shook his head. “Do you want to go first or should I?” Emile asked.

“You paid for this thing, I’m not letting you wait for a turn,” Remy said. “You go first.”

“Okay, okay,” Emile laughed, placing his ball on the tee and carefully hitting it towards the hole. He wound up about an inch away and he staggered back, making gagging sounds. “Oh, no, I’m dead! My reputation as a good minigolf player is ruined! I’m  _ dead!” _

That had the desired effect of getting Remy to laugh. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone,” he said in a stage whisper.

Emile grinned as Remy took his first shot, which was a little too far to the left of the hole. Emile got his in the hole in two, Remy in three. Their conversations were mostly consisting of laughter and Emile over-dramatizing every single shot while Remy just laughed and called him a dork every time.

They got to the dreaded windmill hole and Emile whistled. “This one is tough, no matter what course you go to,” he said.

“Tell me about it,” Remy said. “I had the biggest problems with these as a kid. You get it  _ in _ the windmill, it’s as good as a hole-in-one, but you don’t, and it takes you four more strokes to get it in the hole.”

“And that’s provided the shot doesn’t land you right back at the tee where you started,” Emile said sagely.

Remy turned to him with a laugh. “Get out. That happened to you?!”

“Several times,” Emile said with a laugh. “I’d go to the beach with my parents as a kid, and they’d have minigolf places by the dozens. Not many of them had windmills, but the ones that did were vicious courses.”

Remy squinted. “Is this hole where our friendship ends?” he asked. “Did you get good at the windmill holes?”

“It’s been a while since I’ve done minigolf,” Emile said. “But yes, I did learn the trick for most windmills. But I can tell you the secret, if you want?”

“Please?” Remy asked.

“Okay, you see how fast the windmill is going? It’s not super quick, right?” Emile asked.

“Right,” Remy said, brows furrowing as he looked at Emile.

“Well, you don’t want to hit the ball super hard, because you’ll lose control of the direction.” Emile pulled his golf ball out of his pocket and placed it on the tee. “Based on the speed of the ball I’ve seen on the other holes, and the speed of the blades, if you hit the ball with a normal amount of force, it should pass through the blades unharmed if you hit the ball about halfway between the blade coming down to cover the hole.”

“Let’s put your theory to the test then,” Remy said with a slight smirk. “Care to make a friendly wager?”

“I’m listening,” Emile said with a grin. He doubted Remy would do something like bet a kiss, not on a first date, but his bets were always interesting.

“If you’re right about your theory, and your ball passes through the windmill with no problems, you can pay for whatever you decide we’re getting for dinner and I won’t kick up a fuss, since it’s clear you want  _ everything _ to be your treat tonight. But if you’re wrong, I get to argue for the right to pay for dinner, and I pay for a scoop of ice cream for each of us before we head to dinner, because I saw they sell scoops here and I’m a sucker for a good ice cream cone,” Remy said.

“Oh, the stakes  _ are _ high!” Emile said, laughing. “All right, you’re on! And just to  _ sweeten _ the deal, I’ll pay for ice cream once we’re done if I win the bet, since you said something.”

“I knew I should have just said I’d pay for half of dinner,” Remy said. “Fine. The bet’s on.”

Emile lined up his shot, waited, just to make sure the speed of the windmill stayed the same, pulled the putter back...and hit the ball.

They both watched intently as the ball rolled up to the windmill. The blade came down over the hole...the ball kept rolling closer...and just as the last of the blade moved to reveal the hole in the windmill, the ball rolled up and into the passageway. Remy’s jaw dropped and both of them ran around to the other side. The ball was heading into the dip in the turf, closer, closer...and it was in. “Hole in one!” Emile cheered, throwing his free hand up in the air. “I’m paying!”

Remy shook his head in disbelief. “Okay, I gotta try that trick,” he said, moving back to the tee. Emile retrieved his ball and wrote down his score, watching at the edge of the hole as Remy lined up his shot, hit the ball, and just  _ barely _ got it into the windmill before the blade passed. But the ball rolled into the dip dutifully, and circled the hole, before falling in. Emile whistled. “Way to go, Rem! You got a hole in one too!”

“Yeah, thanks for that little trick,” Remy said grabbing his ball and walking with Emile to the next hole. “That’s good to know about this course, even if it doesn’t apply to others.”

“Eh, it takes a lot of trial and error, most of the time,” Emile said. “After a while, you grow to predict how much force and time you need, on any course, not just the one you learned on.”

“Huh,” Remy said. “Good to know, I guess.”

“I know, you’re probably wondering about the real-life applications about being able to accurately predict how hard to hit a golf ball on a minigolf course,” Emile laughed. “There’s isn’t much of one, but it’s fun to know on the rare occasions that you do go minigolf-ing.”

Remy chuckled and Emile grinned. This was fun. He was having a fun time. He was on a date with Remy and having a good time, and no one was taking below the belt shots, or making any jokes in poor taste, or anything like that. Emile was pleasantly surprised. Remy didn’t seem to be purposefully being on his best behavior...this just seemed to be how he behaved normally.

Maybe Emile had misjudged exactly how much Remy had grown. He was surprised. Pleasantly surprised, to be sure, but surprised nonetheless. They continued to make their way through the minigolf course, and when they reached the final hole, Emile shared a look with Remy. “You ready for this?” he asked. “Because once we pass this hole I’m buying you ice cream and dinner.”

Remy groaned, but he was smiling as Emile lined up his shot. It swung a little wide to the right, and Remy took his turn, getting a hole in one with a cheer. Emile grinned and marked it down on their scorecard, before getting his ball in the hole with a second stroke.

They returned the golf clubs and Emile bought them each a scoop of ice cream from the vendor by the entrance. Remy shook his head. “You know you didn’t have to insist on getting me 'Rocky Road.' I would have been just as happy with vanilla, and that’s a little cheaper."

Emile took a bite from his chocolate ice cream with a smile. “But I wanted to make sure you got what you wanted,” he said. “You deserve to get something you would enjoy!”

Remy shook his head. “Emile, that’s sweet of you, but really. You can’t just pay for everything whenever you want.”

“You’re right,” Emile said. “And next time we go out  _ you _ can pay. But for now, I’m buying us this night out.”

Remy shook his head but didn’t argue further, and they finished their ice cream, before Emile drove them to Remy’s favorite pizza place in town. Remy scoffed as they pulled up. “You know, Emile, if I didn’t know any better I would say you  _ like _ me, taking me all these places.”

Emile laughed genuinely at that. Remy really knew how to make him laugh. “Come on, let’s just go inside and eat,” Emile said.

They got out of his car and got a small table for two near the back of the restaurant. Emile wanted to make a move, but he also didn’t want to spook Remy, so he restrained himself to just smiling frequently and making puns about the pizzas they served. Remy rolled his eyes at every last pun, but he chuckled at a few of them, too.

When their pizza came out, pepperoni on one half and veggie lover’s on the other, Emile quickly took a piece of pepperoni to keep himself occupied. He didn’t want to start blabbering nervously, not when the date had gone this well so far.

Remy was chewing on a piece of veggie lover’s, and Emile knew he was making heart eyes, but he couldn’t stop. Remy looked up and noticed, turning pink. “What?” he asked.

“It’s nothing,” Emile said, looking away and blushing.

“No it’s not, tell me,” Remy said.

Emile shifted in his seat. “I’m just...really glad that you agreed to come out tonight with me.”

Remy chewed the piece of the pizza currently in his mouth, swallowed, and said, “That’s gay, Emile.”

Emile burst out laughing, and a few of the other customers sent him dirty looks. He was left wheezing in his seat as he said, “Yeah, I guess it is.”

The sun had set by the time they had finished their pizza, and Emile and Remy walked back to Emile’s car in companionable silence. When they got in and Emile started to drive, Remy hummed. “Tonight was fun,” he said simply.

“Yeah, I agree,” Emile said. “We should do it again, sometime.”

“Definitely,” Remy said.

Emile’s heart soared. Remy liked the date! He said he would go on another one! This was a rousing success! Emile grinned as he drove. “I’m glad you agree,” he said at Remy’s questioning look.

“Ah,” Remy said. “Well, of course I do. After all, this isn’t something you do just any night, you know? It’s special.”

Emile smiled softly. “Yeah, but it’s a good kind of special.”

“Definitely a good kind of special,” Remy agreed.

When they got back to their apartment, Emile hovered by the doorway as they walked in. What did he do? He didn’t want to scare Remy with a kiss, but he didn’t want to just retreat to his room without saying or doing anything else, either. “...Hug?” he eventually asked.

“Sure,” Remy said, frowning.

Emile hugged Remy tight and when he broke apart, he smiled softly. “I really enjoyed tonight,” he repeated. “Night, Remy.”

And with that, he left a very bewildered Remy so he could get ready to go to bed.


	25. Chapter 25

####  **February 12th, 1995**

Remy tapped lightly on Toby’s door, almost afraid to approach his brother, even though he really needed to. Toby looked up from the book he was reading, and smiled, and Remy felt some small part of him settle at the expression. “Hey, Rem. Something up?” he asked.

“Uh...yeah,” Remy said. “Can I come in?”

Toby nodded, and Remy walked in, closing the door behind him with a soft click. Toby’s eyebrows rose. “Wow, this must be serious,” he said. “You never close the door unless you don’t want Mom or Dad snooping.”

Remy shifted uncomfortably. “Toby...I...I think I have a crush on someone, and I don’t know what to do!”

“Oh, well, that’s okay!” Toby said. “What’s her name?”

“It’s...uh...his name is George. He’s in my Geography class,” Remy blurted.

Toby blinked, before moving to sit on the edge of his bed and pat the mattress next to him. “Sit down, Rem, we can talk about it.”

“Promise you won’t tell Mom and Dad?” Remy asked.

“Cross my heart and hope to die,” Toby said solemnly.

####  **April 11th, 2001**

Remy was giggling at a story Clara was telling him about what she had done over spring break. He would be the first to admit that they had a rocky start, but they slowly became friends through Emile’s gentle coaxing and prodding, and after various apologies from Remy, ones that he actually meant. Now, they had a pretty strong friendship, strong enough that Clara was willing to admit that she had participated in the worst drinking game of her life when her and her friends took a shot everytime someone in a cheesy rom-com upped the unresolved sexual tension.

Emile was hanging around nearby, and a few of their other friends were all here as well. It wasn’t their apartment, though, it was actually Theo’s house that they had come to. Theo had wanted to check up on Remy, Emile had come with, and a few of their friends were already over there, so they decided to throw an impromptu party.

As Clara got into a particularly funny bit, about how Benny had taken  _ two _ shots instead of one and wound up laughing so hard he fell out of his chair and couldn’t get up for a solid minute, Remy laughed hard himself, until he felt a hand brush against his shoulder, and looked up to see Emile standing there. He grinned. “Something up?” he asked.

“Just wanted to see how you were holding up,” Emile asked.

“Oh, we’re good,” Remy said, gesturing to Clara. “She’s an amazing story-teller.”

“You’re a great audience,” Clara laughed back.

“Yeah, he’s a great listener, when he wants to be,” Emile laughed. “But all too often he doesn’t want to.”

“Hey,” Remy objected.

“Sorry, babe, but it’s true,” Emile laughed.

Remy’s brain made that record scratch noise, and he frowned. “What did you just say?”

“What, bad nickname?” Emile asked, frowning. “I thought, you know, you wouldn’t mind, being boyfriends and all...”

Remy blinked uncomprehendingly at Emile. “Boy...friends...?”

“I...yes?” Emile asked, frowning.

Remy just frowned deeper. “That isn’t a very funny joke, Emile.”

“What? Remy, this isn’t a joke, I genuinely thought...” Emile looked crestfallen. “No, we...we went on a date! You had fun and laughed and I paid!”

“When?!” Remy asked. “We never did that!”

The whole room had gone silent as the two stared each other down. Emile’s eyes were filling with tears, and he took off his glasses, wiping at his eyes. “No...no, we did...I didn’t dream it...”

“You had to, because we never went on a date!” Remy insisted.

“No! I remember! We went to the minigolf course, and we made that bet, and we had pizza afterward, and you made a gay joke when I got sappy! That wasn’t a dream!” Emile practically demanded.

Remy blinked again. Took a breath. Took another. Opened his mouth to speak, only to have nothing come out. Eventually, he just squawked, “That was a  _ date?!” _

“Yes!” Emile exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air. “Yes, Remy, that was our first date! Or at least...I thought it was...” He turned away, starting to cry. “Clearly, you didn’t think so.”

Remy couldn’t figure out how to respond to that. “That counts as stuff you can do on a date...But...but this is  _ me _ we’re talking about!” Remy exclaimed, leaping to his feet. “I’m not...I’m not boyfriend material, I’m not worth sticking around for!”

“Yes you  _ are!” _ Emile exclaimed.

“But...I don’t understand,” Remy said, blinking, frowning. “Why would you want to stay...with  _ me?  _ I hurt you. I tried to break you. Why would you stay?”

Emile shrugged. “Do I have to have a reason?”

“Most people tend to,” Remy said, crossing his arms. He was crying now, too, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Okay, here’s one,” Emile said, leaning forward and kissing Remy chastely on the lips for half a second, just a ghost of a feeling, before Emile pulled back. “I love you.”

Remy stared at Emile in shock. “But...what?!” he whispered. “I’m not...what?! I’m just...me!”

“Oh, that’s the point, you idiot! Don’t you understand?! I realized that I loved you too late!” Emile was almost shouting. “And then I thought I might have a chance! I thought you realized I was asking you out! I thought you were up for giving ‘us’ a shot! But no! Apparently, I was wrong! Again!” Emile crossed his arms, backing away from Remy.

Remy moved forward without realizing he was moving, and Emile shied away from him. Remy couldn’t hide the hurt on his face, but he gently took one hand, and cupped Emile’s cheek, turning him toward Remy. Remy moved to fill the space between them, and slowly, brought his lips to Emile’s, giving Emile every chance to back away.

But Emile didn’t back away. His arms dropped, his lips moved with Remy’s, a little out of rhythm, but tender and sweet all the same. Remy could taste the salt from both of their tears and after a minute, he broke out of the kiss, eyes searching Emile’s face. Emile looked so broken, so desperate, and it broke Remy’s heart. He couldn’t believe that he had at one point  _ wanted _ Emile like this. It sent a horrible feeling into the pit of his stomach. “Emile,” he said softly. “I don’t understand why you would want me, but if you’ll have me, I’d love to be your boyfriend.”

Emile’s face crumpled and he threw himself into Remy’s arms, sobbing. Remy shushed him and hugged him fiercely, unwilling to let go, lest they both fall apart into nothing. When they had both calmed down, and taken a step back, somewhat unable to look each other in the eye, Theo-and most of the people around them, honestly-started cheering and clapping. “Who won the betting pool?!” Theo asked. “It happened over spring break, y’all, who won it?!”

One of the quieter friend’s hands shot up. “I did! I totally called it, from the second they moved in together over winter break!”

Remy blinked, looking around. “I’m sorry...did everyone know that we were getting together except us?”

“Pretty much!” Clara said brightly. “There’s been a betting pool that actually extends beyond our friend group to most of the people the both of you work with who also go to our college. And of course, Mister Quiet over there won both of those, because nobody else bet on spring break.”

“Really?” Emile asked.

“Well, we all thought that Theo baiting you, Emile, was gonna make that happen a little sooner,” Clara explained. “We honestly expected the two of you to get together  _ before _ spring break. Or at least, most of us did.”

“I hate. Every last one of you,” Remy said, gesturing around the room. “Every last one of you mortals. And don’t forget that Emile doesn’t count in that, because he’s an angel, and angels are not mortal.”

Emile laughed and pecked Remy on the cheek, causing Remy to grow bright crimson. “Stop,” he whined. “You’re not allowed to do that, it’ll ruin my image!”

“Oh, and here I thought you didn’t  _ like _ being kissed,” Emile teased, giving Remy another peck.

“Emile!” Remy whined. “Nooo!”

“Yeees!” Emile replied, in a similar tone and dragging his vowels out just as much. “Come on, Rem, you know you love me!”

“Mm. Debatable,” Remy grumbled.

“Ooh, uncertainty this early in a relationship, you two are in trouble,” Theo teased.

“Are not!” Remy protested.

“Mm, I have to agree with Theo,” Clara said.

“Teasing is a healthy part of relationships,” Remy said. “It shows trust in the other person, and shows you where the lines you shouldn’t cross are before you say something that  _ really _ hurts their feelings.”

Emile laughed. “For all your talk about hating shrinks, you’re certainly starting to  _ sound _ like one.”

“Yeah, well, that’s your fault. And maybe slightly Kim’s, but you make me see Kim, so it’s ultimately your fault, still,” Remy said with a teasing grin.

Emile rolled his eyes as Remy blew a kiss at him. “I still say you seeing Kim is a good idea,” Emile said.

“Oh no, yeah, it is,” Remy assured. “It definitely is. Like, in a year or so I might be better and not need to see her as much or at all, because, y’know, we’ve gone through a lot of crap already and she’s helping me a lot, but right now...she’s a good influence, I guess? And a fresh perspective. One which I wasn’t aware I needed.”

Emile hummed. “So you don’t resent me for that?”

Remy draped himself over Emile’s shoulder dramatically and he said, “Mm, I resent you a little still.”

Emile burst out laughing and Remy wound up giggling too. “Okay, see, I don’t understand how you can call yourself cool still if when I make a joke, or I start laughing, you  _ giggle _ in response.”

“I do  _ not _ giggle!” Remy protested. “I chuckle!”

“No, you definitely giggle, Rem,” Emile said with a smile. “Chuckling is lower in pitch. Your laugh is too high to be considered a chuckle.”

“That doesn’t automatically designate it a  _ giggle!” _ Remy exclaimed.

“Get a room, you two!” Theo said, cupping his hands around his mouth as he spoke.

Emile turned pink but Remy just stuck his tongue out at Theo before continuing to drape himself over Emile. “Are you going to continue to use me as furniture?” Emile asked, sounding a cross between annoyed and amused.

“What’s the matter,  _ babe? _ Don’t like me being touchy with you?” Remy teased.

“You, sir, are the worst,” Emile said.

Remy pulled a face. “Don’t call me sir,” he said.

“Fine. You,  _ ma’am, _ are the worst,” Emile said.

Everyone in the room laughed save for them. Remy smiled slightly and ducked his head, and Emile pushed some of Remy’s hair out of his face. Emile whispered in his ear, “Do you want me to call you girl?” he asked.

“Nah,” Remy murmured back. “Just don’t feel like being called ‘sir’ today.”

“Gotcha,” Emile replied, somewhat louder. “But I’m going to sit down now.”

He sat down next to Clara, leaving Remy to stand on his own. Remy stuck his tongue out at Emile. Emile did it back with a smug grin, and oh, boy, did Remy want to teach him a lesson. What kind of lesson, he wasn’t entirely sure, but he wanted to teach it, just to get Emile to stop being so smug.

Theo turned on music before walking over to Remy. “You know everyone’s known that you and Emile liked each other for forever, right?” he asked.

Remy shook his head. “I certainly know now, at least. Why would you agree to a one-night stand with me if you were convinced I loved Emile?”

“I wasn’t looking for anything serious,” Theo said with a shrug. “So if you wanted to run back to Emile, it would be no problem. I can find someone on either side who suits my fancy, and you can have Emile.”

“The love of my life,” Remy said, words dripping sarcasm.

“Hey, you never know,” Theo said. “People are getting married by the time they’re juniors or seniors, you guys could wind up falling in real love, not just like, crushes and infatuation.”

Remy looked at Emile, who had started laughing with Clara and resisted the urge to smile at the fact that Emile was now his dorky  _ boyfriend. _ He wouldn’t want to say anything definite, but he certainly wouldn’t  _ object _ to marrying Emile, at least, not right now. He knew the honeymoon phase was already swinging in strong, but if that passed and they still liked each other...enjoyed each other’s company...well, marriage seemed like the valid option. Except... “I’m not sure if we  _ could _ get married, being a gay couple and all,” he pointed out.

“Well, it’s the twenty-first century, man,” Theo said with a grin. “Some laws? They’ve just gotta change eventually.”

Remy looked back at Emile, who was now laughing hard enough to have tears in his eyes. “Yeah,” he allowed. “Some things have to change.” He hoped that Emile was never one of them.


	26. Chapter 26

####  **September 17th, 1999**

Remy was pacing back and forth in his room, trying to figure out what to say to his mother when he inevitably had to leave his room and ran into her again. When there was a knock on his door and his mother poked her head in, he was about to open his mouth to say he needed a little more time but she burst into tears. “Oh, Remy, baby, I’m so sorry! You know I love you, right? You know I would never want to hurt you! I just want you to be happy, and I know that going into business won’t help you.”

Standing stock still as his mother came over to hug him, Remy just let her, trying to figure out a response. “It’s...it’s okay, Mom. Really.”

“It’s not, it’s not!” she wailed. “Oh, can you ever forgive me?”

Remy’s stomach twisted uncomfortably, even as he hugged her and said, “Yeah, of course.”

####  **April 26th, 2001**

“Emile,” Remy mumbled into Emile’s chest from where they were cuddling on Remy’s bed.

“Yes, Rem?” Emile asked.

“I know that we live in the same apartment but...do you think we should like...share a bedroom?” Remy asked.

Emile propped himself up with one arm. "What do you mean?"

“I mean...I know it’s pretty early in the relationship still, but like...eventually. Do you think we should share a bedroom in the apartment?” Remy asked.

Emile shrugged. “Eventually, that seems like the natural progression of our relationship.”

Remy nodded.

“Why do you ask?” Emile tilted his head to the side. “I mean, like you said, it’s pretty early in our relationship...”

“Uh...I just thought...we cuddle in each others’ beds so much...” Remy shrugged.

“That’s because we don’t have a couch to cuddle on,” Emile said. “Besides, it’s kinda nice to get to visit your room every once in a while. After all, we almost always went to my room when you went to college with me.”

“Well, my roommate then was...kinda killing my motivation to bring you over. He wasn’t exactly the cleanest,” Remy said. “My new roommate’s almost anal retentive enough to be called a ‘neat freak,’ though.”

“Shut up,” Emile laughed, lightly whacking Remy’s bicep with the back of his hand.

Remy laughed and when Emile laid back down, Remy rested his head on Emile’s chest again. The full-sized bed was a little cramped with both of them on it, but Remy wasn’t going to complain. He got to share cuddle time with Emile, and Emile was an amazing cuddler. Not that he'd be caught dead saying that, he had a reputation to maintain. But in secret, alone in his own head, yes, Emile was an amazing cuddler.

All too soon, though, they had to get up. Emile for school and Remy for work. They had these brief moments in the mornings, and Remy loved them, but he wished they could have them more without worrying about hours at work or making it to class on time. One day, he knew. One day Emile would be out of school for the summer and neither of them would have to go into work, either because Remy or Emile called in, or their bosses actually decided to be generous. And then they could cuddle all they wanted.

And then there were other options besides cuddling...dates, movies, going to the beach...oh, Emile in boardshorts was certainly a visual...

“Earth to Remy, you in there?” Emile asked.

“Hm?” Remy asked.

“I need to change, I was hoping for something before I left?” Emile asked with a grin.

“Oh.” Remy blinked. “If you want a kiss, you have to earn it, lover boy.”

The sheer offense in Emile’s face after that one statement had Remy cackling. Emile pulled Remy up into a sitting position and pecked him on the lips anyway. Remy grabbed Emile’s arms and yanked him back down on the bed for a deeper kiss as they both laughed. Emile pulled away and grinned. “Listen. I do have to change out of my pajamas.”

“Yeah, yeah, go ahead and change,” Remy said. “I need to get ready for work too.”

Emile left the room and Remy watched him go. Now, where had he been? Oh, yeah, Emile in boardshorts...that’s it, he had to get Emile to the beach at some point. That visual needed to become a reality.

Reluctantly, he did slowly get ready for work. He wasn’t feeling super feminine today, but he wasn’t digging the whole masculine look either. It was whatever, he supposed, but it still felt a little weird to feel  _ wrong _ and not know what  _ right _ might be.

He walked out to the kitchen just as Emile was grabbing some granola for breakfast on the go. Emile kissed him on the cheek and said, “See you tonight,” and he was gone.

Remy had a quick breakfast and made his way to work, smiling softly, just thinking about him and Emile being domestic together. He hadn’t realized how much he might enjoy this. Making breakfast while sneaking kisses, cuddling in each others’ beds in the mornings or before they went to sleep, or even just during lazy afternoons.

The walk to work went quick when he was sighing dreamily and just thinking about all the fun he and Emile could have if they put their mind to it. He made his way back behind the counter, tied his apron on, and clocked in.

When he walked up to the counter, one of his coworkers, August, smiled knowingly at him. “Cuddles this morning?” she asked.

“Why ask when you know the answer?” Remy asked with a little laugh.

August laughed too. “Just making sure,” she said.

Remy shook his head. “You’re ridiculous,” he sighed.

The work slowly but surely started to pick up, and pretty soon he and August didn’t have much of any time to chat. He kept himself occupied replaying memories in his head, like the time a week ago he had walked in the door of his and Emile’s apartment, and had immediately been assaulted with one of Emile’s pillows. Remy had put down his stuff, calmly picked the pillow up off the floor, and promptly chased a squealing Emile around the apartment, whacking him mercilessly until he could grab another from his room, at which point the pillow fight of the century ensued, complete with jumping on beds and laughter and plenty of accusations of cheating on both sides. That had only stopped when it was time for him to go to therapy.

He turned to the next customer in line, saying, “Hi, can I take your order?” before he actually  _ looked _ at who was standing there and he paled as he saw his mother.

August noticed him go stiff and she walked over. “Something wrong, Remy?” she asked.

Remy couldn’t get his mouth to work as his mother just glared at him. “Uh...no...no problem,” Remy squeaked. “Can I get your order?” he repeated to his mother.

“An explanation would be nice,” his mother snapped.

August looked between Remy and his mother and quickly moved Remy away from the counter. “Remy, why don’t you work the coffee machines for a bit? I’ll handle this woman and the other customers until you feel a little better, sound good?”

Remy nodded slightly.

“Okay. Now, who is she? Do I need to call Emile?”

“No! Don’t call Emile!” Remy blurted. “That’s...she’s my mother. I’m just a little...surprised that she’s here, is all.”

August’s eyes flashed with anger before she gave him a reassuring smile. “It’ll be okay, Remy. You just work the machines, I’ll handle her.”

Remy nodded again and worked the machines, filling everyone’s orders as he kept one ear on the conversation behind him. “Can I take your order, ma’am?” August asked.

“I’d like to speak with my son,” his mother hissed.

“I’m afraid that Remy is still on the clock, ma’am. I need you to either order something or leave,” August said, calm but firm.

His mother huffed some before she said, “Fine, I’ll take an espresso. No sugar.”

August said, “Of course. Can I have a name for the order?” and passed Remy the order when she got one. He dutifully made it, set it on the counter, calling his mom’s name, and leaving to work the machines before she could corner him into having a conversation. He was not getting in trouble with his bosses because his mother decided to be nosy.

Much to his chagrin, his mother stayed in the shop until he finally had to clock out and walked out from behind the counter. He walked outside and noticed it was raining. Great. Just what he needed, a walk home in the rain. “Remington!” his mother snapped behind him.

He just kept walking down the street, until talons disguised as nails dug into his bicep. “Remington, look at me when I’m talking to you!” she said.

There was no use in trying to get his arm free, but he tried anyway, because some things never changed. “What do you want with me?” he asked.

“An explanation! You haven’t called or written us at all since before Thanksgiving! And then I call that phone that your dorm room has, and I hear from some student that you dropped out?!” His mother’s fingernails dug into his skin.

“Mom, you’re hurting me,” Remy said, trying to free his arm.

“You haven’t answered my question!” his mother snapped.

Remy felt his eyes heating up and he growled. He hated that he was such a crybaby, he could never stop his tears even when he really tried. Around the time that he left high school, he stopped trying, and just tried to find somewhere to hide until he was calm again, but here? Here, there was nowhere to hide. “Mom, you’re  _ hurting me,” _ he insisted.

His mother scoffed and let his arm go, and he rubbed it, glaring down at her. “I did drop out. Because college was driving me to suicide. Now I work two jobs and they get me through life well enough. I have friends, and the reason I didn’t come home at Christmas was because I knew you’d react like this if I told you I dropped out.”

“You said you would change your major!” his mother screeched, and a few passersby gave him concerned looks. “You said that you would go back to college, and change your major, and continue until you finished your freshman year!”

“Yeah, well.” Remy shrugged. “I lied.”

His mother went red in the face and Remy was starting to think he had miscalculated. “You think you can just lie to my face and get away with it?!” his mother shrieked. “You’re coming home with me, and explaining what  _ you did _ to your father, and we’ll figure out what to do with you from there!”

Remy’s eyes widened and he took a half step back, searching his mother’s face for any sign of hesitation. There was none. “No,” he said.

His mother stood stock still. Remy resisted the urge to gulp. “Remington, this is not up for debate,” she said, voice taut with deadly rage that he knew from experience would snap and lash out everywhere if he did the slightest thing wrong. “You will follow me back to the car and you  _ will _ be coming home.”

“...You’re right. This isn’t up for debate. I’m not going,” Remy said, voice quivering only a little.

“Remington Samuel Picani, you will come with me  _ right now!” _ his mother demanded, voice shrill.

“You don’t understand. I live  _ here _ now.  _ This _ is my home. And I would thank you kindly to  _ never _ demand I do anything again,” Remy said.

His mother’s nostrils flared and he turned and ran, listening to his instincts. His mother grabbed for his arm, but he moved it out of her reach. His feet hit the pavement harder, harder, propelling him forward faster and faster. He had to keep moving, had to keep going, had to get away just until his mother calmed down. When she was calm again they could talk, but not before. He didn’t want a screaming match, and besides, Emile said that arguing when people were angry never ended well.

His feet moved without him telling them to, dodging people on the street, making twists and turns around the town that he had grown to know but his mother did not. He had to get away. He had to make sure his mother didn’t know where he was going. She was yelling after him, but he pretended to not hear. It was hard to make out what she was saying, anyway, considering the blood roaring in his ears. He made a hard left, darting across the street, making sure that his mother was out of sight before ducking into his apartment complex. He made it to the doorway of the steps leading up to the upper floors before his legs gave out and he collapsed in a heap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Please don't kill me...?


	27. Chapter 27

####  **July 6th, 1993**

Emile tilted his head to the side as he read his book and he hummed in thought. “Mom?” he asked, looking up from his book to his mother, who was sitting across from him in the living room, watching some show or another on TV.

“If you’re going to ask for a puppy again, Emile, you know my answer,” she said with a smile.

“No, it’s not that. What’s a therapist?” he asked.

“It’s someone who helps people when they have mental illnesses,” his mom said. “So when some people get depressed or really anxious and they can’t stop on their own, they see a therapist, who can teach them how to feel better.”

“So...they help people?” Emile asked with a frown. “In this book the character doesn’t want to see a therapist.”

“Some people don’t like therapists, but they’re taught to help people,” his mom said.

“Oh.” Then, “Can  _ I _ be a therapist? I want to help people!”

His mom smiled. “Emile, that sounds exactly like something you’d love to do.”

####  **April 26th, 2001**

Emile was whistling as he walked into the apartment complex, tired from classes and work but relieved that the day was over and he could relax with Remy. He made his way to the stairwell, but halfway there realized that something had been left on the floor. Emile tutted. If Aubrey had gotten lazy with the garbage again...

The unidentified lump shuddered and sobbed, and Emile’s blood ran cold. He knew that voice anywhere. “Remy?!” he asked, rushing over.

Remy’s face was streaked with tears, red and blotchy. His hands were shaking as he brought them up to shield himself from Emile, flinching. His eyes looked hazy, like he wasn’t entirely in the present, and Emile’s mind immediately supplied  _ dissociation or flashback, likely caused by an unknown trigger. Get him upstairs and safe. _ “Hey, Rem, it’s me. It’s Emile,” Emile said, crouching down and gently grabbing one of Remy’s hands. “It’s okay, I’m gonna get you upstairs, all right?”

“Is she gone?” Remy mumbled, looking around. “She can’t discover that I live here, Emile. She can’t know where I sleep. Where I relax. Where I love.  _ Who _ I love.”

“Remy, we can talk about all that when we get you upstairs, okay?” Emile asked. “Can you stand?”

Remy successfully pushed himself into a sitting position, but the second he moved a leg to get into a position to stand up, he was shaking so violently he collapsed again. His breathing was picking up and Emile’s brain was going into overdrive again.  _ Panic attack. Possible paranoia, or phobia. Get him upstairs, work on reassurance. _ “Hey, Remy, it’s okay. I can help you, okay? We’ll get upstairs and we can get you better.”

“She can’t know, Emile. She can’t know,” Remy breathed, as Emile helped him stand.

“She won’t know, Rem, let’s just get you upstairs,” Emile said, leading Remy up the stairs and into their apartment. Remy was listing to the side as Emile closed the door and Emile guided the both of them to the floor, pulling Remy on his lap. Remy was still shaking, setting off all sorts of alarms in Emile’s head.

“Is she gone?” Remy mumbled again. “Where did she go? She was...she was chasing me...”

“Who is she, Rem?” Emile asked.

Remy’s breathing picked up as he stammered out “M-M-M-Mo-o-om. M-Moth-ther. My mother.”

If Emile’s blood ran cold before, it positively turned to ice now. “Remy, can you tell me what happened?” he asked.

Remy looked around fearfully, like his mother would come crawling out of the woodwork at any moment. “She found me. I don’t know how she found me, but she found me. Came to my shift today. Ordered a coffee and waited until I was off my shift to ask me what I was doing. She found out I had dropped out from some kid with a big mouth at college. And she grabbed my arm, and refused to let go for a bit, and...and she kept talking, and I kept responding, and she said...she said she was taking me back home, Emile. She said she was going to take me back home, and I was gonna explain to Dad what I did, and they were going to figure out what to do with me, and let’s be real, they’d probably force me to join the military because if I’m not going to college and not getting a real job that way, then obviously the next logical step is to ship me off to who-knows-where and pray I don’t get blown up, because yeah, that makes total sense, especially if you kid was suicidal going to college and was finally happy when he stopped trying to impress others and just wanted to be himself!” Remy’s breath was heaving in his chest. “So I ran. I ran and ran so she wouldn’t know where I live and she couldn’t catch me. She can’t know where I live, Emile, she’s gonna ship me off and away and I’ll never see you again.”

Emile kissed the crown of Remy’s head and said, “That’s not going to happen, Rem. I didn’t see any angry women stalking around nearby shouting your name. You must have lost her at some point. You’re safe.”

“I’m never safe,” Remy whispered, starting to cry. “I’m never safe, Emile, and I’m scared. I know I shouldn’t be but I’m so, so scared.”

“Hey, you’re absolutely allowed to be scared, that’s a scary thing,” Emile said, brushing some of Remy’s sweat-slicked hair off his forehead. “Come on, I can get you in your bed and you can just lay low for a bit until you feel better, sound good?”

Remy nodded and Emile stood, and carefully picked Remy up, staggering over to Remy’s bed and laying him down, taking off his shoes. Remy was asleep in seconds. Of course, immediately after there was a harsh pounding on their front door, and a rather unpleasant voice hollered, “Remington, I know you’re in there!”

Emile twitched as Remy’s forehead creased. “Ssh, it’s okay, Rem, I’ve got this,” he murmured into Remy’s ear. He stood, closed Remy’s bedroom door, and then opened the front one with his best fake smile. “I’m sorry, ma’am, can I help you?”

“Where’s my son?” the woman asked with narrowed eyes.

“I’m sorry?” Emile asked.

“My son. Remington. Remy. Whatever he’s calling himself these days,” the woman huffed.

Emile twitched again, making sure his fake smile was still in place. “You must have the wrong apartment number, ma’am, because the only people here are me and my girlfriend, Ramona.”

Remy’s mother narrowed her eyes at him. “I know you from somewhere...” she said.

“Oh! Well, I am one of Remy’s friends from college,” Emile said brightly. “We were talking about moving in together at one point to split rent, but that was before I got with my girlfriend. He and I hang out a lot, but I don’t really know where he lives nowadays. Sorry.”

“So he did drop out of college?” Remy’s mother snarled.

“I guess so!” Emile said, pretending to look shocked. “Didn’t you know? He moved off campus because he thought it might be cheaper. He mentioned that he didn’t like going to school and he picked up a second job, so I guess he dropped out in order to make ends meet, but I don’t know, ma’am. You’d have to take that up with him.”

“I was trying to,” she hissed, “Before he ran away in the middle of our conversation! And the people in this apartment building said that he lives here!”

“Well, gee, ma’am! Remy sure does visit a lot but he doesn’t  _ live _ here!” Emile laughed. “His roommate, whoever they are, doesn’t keep things clean at their place, apparently, and he never wants me to come over to his, so whenever we hang out it’s here. Ramona jokes that we might want to make the guest room his room, but he doesn’t live here, ma’am. I’m sorry if anyone mislead you.”

Remy’s mother huffed. “Whenever you see him next, tell him I expect him to call. Maybe if he behaves I’ll give him Tobias’ new phone number.”

It took all of Emile’s strength to not strangle her then and there, but he just smiled and said, “I’ll try to pass the message along, ma’am.”

She looked him up and down. “What’s your name, young man?”

“Emile, ma’am. Emile Thomas,” he said.

She snorted. “Your parents must have a sense of humor, with a girly name like that.”

Emile twitched again, and he was really starting to hate this woman more than he had ever thought it was possible to hate someone before. “Is there any reason you were asking, ma’am?”

“I was just curious. Remington never talks about his friends much when he calls,” Remy’s mother said.

“Funny, he never talks much about his family, when he hangs out with me!” Emile chirped. “Anyway, my girlfriend Ramona is sick, and I’ve been trying to make her feel better. So if you don’t mind, I’ll be going back to helping her. Best of luck finding Remy!”

He closed the door without another word and growled. He hated that woman before, but he positively  _ loathed _ her now. He waited by the door until he heard the slam of the complex’s door to the stairs at the end of the hallway, and then he went back into Remy’s room to check on him. Thankfully, Remy seemed to have slept through that whole ordeal. When he walked closer to Remy, though, he realized that wasn’t the case. “I’m glad you didn’t kill her,” he mumbled, blinking blearily. “But Ramona? Really?”

“Gimme a break, I had to tell her something!” Emile defended. “And I came pretty close to having to hide a body.”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” Remy repeated, sighing into his pillows. “I want to sleep, but I can’t. Not if she knows where I live.”

“Rem, I’m pretty sure I convinced her you don’t live here, you’re safe,” Emile assured.

“You say that now,” Remy said. “But you know what’s going to happen? Provided she can get away with it, she’ll camp out in front of the complex and see if I enter or leave at any point, just so she can talk to me about my behavior, and possibly chew me out a little more for dropping out of college.”

“Well, I won’t let her get away with that,” Emile said. “If you see her car, you let me know, and I can call the cops. Because  _ stalking you _ is unacceptable behavior.”

Remy made a pained noise. “She has Toby’s number. His new number, Emile.”

“Yeah,” Emile agreed. “But is knowing his number worth more than your mental health?”

“You’re gonna say no, but...but he’s my brother, Emile. I love him,” Remy said.

“And he loves you too,” Emile said. “You know what that means? He would not want you dealing with your mother shipping you off halfway around the world just to get his number.”

“How do you know that?” Remy asked, turning to face Emile and tilting his chin up in challenge.

Emile stared down Remy’s scowl. “Because  _ I _ love you. And I would  _ never _ want you to go into danger just so you could talk to me. You know what would happen? Provided we both made it out alive, I would chew you out for being stupid enough to endanger yourself just to get to talk to me. And I don’t doubt Toby would do the same.”

The pout Emile got in return for that meant that he knew he was right, and Remy was desperate, and lonely. Emile sat down on Remy’s bed and asked, “Do you want to cuddle for a bit?”

“No,” Remy mumbled. “It won’t make me feel better about Toby.”

“But could it make you feel better in general?” Emile pressed.

Remy shrugged. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I don’t really think so.”

“Well, it can’t hurt to try, right?” Emile asked.

Remy’s eyes were welling up with tears and Emile tutted. “Oh, it’s okay, Rem, c’mere.”

Without another word, Remy crawled into Emile’s lap and cried. Emile just hugged Remy tight, murmuring softly to him. That it was all right, that  _ he _ was all right, that everything would work out and at the end of the day and they both would be okay, and safe, and so long as they were safe they could work on being happy another day. Emile desperately wanted Remy to feel better, but he knew that was going to take a lot of work yet. Especially if his mother insisted on bothering them both for a while longer.

Emile swayed from side to side ever-so-slightly as he could feel Remy’s tears tapering off. He knew that naps were generally not beneficial to someone’s sleep schedule, but if anyone deserved a nap today, then it was Remy. He kissed Remy’s forehead and continued to sway back and forth. “I miss him,” Remy mumbled into Emile’s chest.

“I know you do,” Emile murmured back. “But right now, your main focus should be you, and getting you better.”

Remy nodded slowly, eyes drifting shut. Carefully, Emile laid both of them down on Remy’s bed, and he cuddled Remy close. Today had shaken both of them, and they would definitely need some time to recover. But it would be okay. They would always have each others’ backs, no matter what.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for police and police stations

####  **March 25th, 1999**

“Toby?” Remy asked.

“Yeah, Rem?” Toby asked, and Remy’s heart ached at the familiar nickname.

“Why don’t you write anymore?” Remy asked. “You would write all the time before Christmas, but now it’s Spring Break and you haven’t even written once!”

“Oh...uh...” Toby cleared his throat. “I just thought our parents knew you better than I would, since I’m not here, you know? And I trusted their judgement, and...yeah, I didn’t want you to obsess over the letters.”

“I don’t obsess over the letters!” Remy objected. “They help me get through the rough patches, yeah, but I don’t obsess over them! Haven’t you gotten any of  _ my _ letters?”

Toby tilted his head to the side. “You’ve been sending letters?”

Remy felt a little piece of him die inside. “I bet Mom’s been stopping the mailman from sending them to you somehow,” he grumbled.

“What?” Toby asked.

“Never mind,” Remy said. “You can just...not write. I won’t bug you about it again.”

“Remy...”

But Remy was already running up the stairs to hide in his room.

####  **April 27th, 2001**

Remy woke up the morning after his mother showed up with a pit of dread in his stomach. It was barely dawn yet, and Remy crept out of his room to the living room where there were two windows which looked out to the parking lot below. He peeked out of one of them, and sure enough, he could recognize the shape of his parents’ sedan, sitting on the edge of the street. He couldn’t see his mother inside, but as long as the car was nearby, she was around. He snuck over to Emile’s room and was barely inside the door before Emile was grumbling and sitting up. “Remy, what time is it?”

“It’s early, I know,” Remy said, wincing. “But my mother is outside.”

“She’s what,” Emile said. Fury entered his voice as he declared, “I’m calling the cops.”

“No! Don’t! Please!” Remy exclaimed. “I swear she’s not that bad! If I just talk to her for five minutes she’ll leave! We can go out together if you want, but we don’t need to call the cops!”

“Remy,” Emile growled. “She’s terrorizing you, and stalking you. That’s not okay. I’m  _ calling the cops.” _

“Emile, please!” Remy begged. “You don’t have to do that!”

“Yes I do!” Emile practically bellowed.

Remy jumped a good six inches and all the blood drained from his face. Emile’s eyes widened and he stood, approaching Remy, but Remy just backed out of the room before running to his own, closing it with his whole body and trying to keep his breathing steady. Emile and Kim had both taught him techniques that could keep his breathing calm and even, but they didn’t seem to be working right now. All he could focus on was Emile’s yelling, echoing over and over in his head. His face was on fire as tears scorched his cheeks, and Emile was knocking on Remy’s door. “Remy! Remy, I’m sorry, please, let me in!”

Remy whimpered and pressed his hands against his ears. Much as he would love to let Emile in, he was also terrified that if he did so, he would be in massive trouble. He had spoken out of turn, he had argued against what Emile wanted, and Emile had gotten angry because of it. That usually meant the second Remy gave in, he’d be getting at least an earful, if not someone unintentionally hurting him.

There was a pounding at the front door, and Remy flinched. Was his mother making a reappearance this early? It was probably barely six in the morning! Footsteps went to the front door, opened it, and there was rushed mumbling that Remy couldn’t make out. He strained to listen closer, and heard words such as “abduction” and “search” and “press charges.”

Remy’s breathing wasn’t getting any better. He buried his head in his knees. If his mother had gone to the police claiming he had been kidnapped...he was going to throttle someone.

Emile yelped and then there was more knocking at Remy’s bedroom door. “Mister Picani?” a gruff voice asked.

“If my mother is the one who called you, I’m not leaving this room!” Remy screamed, voice cracking. “I’m a grown-ass man, she cannot dictate my life!”

“Son, we need you to come with us,” the man said. “You’re safe, you don’t have to lie to anyone about how old you are.”

Remy growled and moved away from the door, grabbing his wallet from his nightstand and pulling out his ID from one of the front pockets. He opened the door an inch and saw a heavily-built man on the other side, wearing a police uniform. He offered his ID out. “I’m of legal age,” he snapped. “I don’t know what my mother told you, but this is my ID.”

The policeman took it, examined it closely, and scrutinized Remy. “You still need to come with us, son,” he said.

“On what grounds?!” Remy snapped. “No, seriously, on what grounds?! Am I not allowed to split rent with Emile over there?” he asked, nodding to his boyfriend. “Am I legally required to go to college? Are you a truancy officer?” He huffed, “I don’t care what my mother told you, I’m not. Going. Anywhere.”

“We need to verify your age, Mister Picani, and ensure that this isn’t a fake ID,” the officer said.

“Okay, I don’t know  _ what _ my mother told you—”

“—You’re not coming with us,” the officer finished, grabbing Remy roughly by the arm. “Kid, I’ll handcuff you if I have to.”

“Bite me,” Remy huffed, trying to wrench his arm free.

The officer’s nostrils flared as he asked, “Care to repeat that comment?”

“Remy. Remy!” Emile exclaimed, from where he was barricaded from moving by another officer. “Don’t fight back on this one, I’ll come pick you up from the station as soon as they realize your mother was lying about you being seventeen and a runaway.”

Remy bared his teeth at the officer. “I’m a grown-ass man! You  _ can’t _ tell me that you seriously believe I’m seventeen!”

“I’ve seen kids taller than you at sixteen,” the officer replied. “March.”

Remy was dragged, kicking and screaming, out of his apartment and into a waiting patrol car. He was unceremoniously thrown in the back, and he fumed in silence all the way to the station. When he was dragged into the station, his mother was waiting for him, and judging by her face she had been crying to some officer or another. “Remy!” she exclaimed, rushing over and trying to hug him.

“Get off me!” Remy exclaimed, shoving her away. “Why would you leave your car outside Emile’s apartment complex and come to the police claiming I was a minor?!”

His mother stared at him in shock, and he just kept his arms crossed, and his teeth bared. “An explanation would be nice,” he threw the words back in her face.

“Remy, you of all people should know that you can’t run away from your responsibilities!” his mother chided. “Your father and I were so worried!”

“Of course you would see it that way,” Remy breathed, before laughing. “Bite me, mother! I’m nineteen years old, I know what I’m doing with my life, and  _ you _ are not going to be a part of it!”

His mother turned on the waterworks and suddenly everyone in the station was glaring at  _ him. _ His mother kept wailing and trying to hug him and he kept shoving her away until the officers who had brought him in dragged him to a holding cell, presumably to stop a fight in the front. It wasn’t the classiest place he had ever been in, but it was away from his mother, so he could relax just a little bit. Two other guys were in there with him, one who looked like he was recovering from a bender, and another who Remy had no idea what he might be here for, but who had tattoo sleeves all up and down both arms. “Nice tats,” he said.

The man tilted his chin up at Remy. “Thanks. You mind my asking why you’re here?”

“My mother’s a nut job?” Remy laughed incredulously. “Claimed I was seventeen and a runaway because I dropped out of college and didn’t call her over Christmas.”

The man roared with laughter, causing the drunk to glare at the both of them. “Wow. That’s...certainly something,” the man said. “I’m here because my girlfriend and I got in a fight, and I was angry enough and stupid enough to punch the cop trying to get in between us.”

Remy grimaced. “Ouch.”

“Tell me about it,” the man said. “I really hope they just give me a fine and not, like, jail time.”

“Me too,” Remy said. “My...my friend and I got in a fight this morning too, before the cops showed up at our door.”

“Your...friend?” the man asked.

“Well, yeah. He and I split rent. We’re having some issues and frequent arguments about keeping the place clean, but at the end of the day, he’s still a friend. It’s just hard to remember that sometimes.” Remy leaned against the wall and sighed. “But my mother likes to ruin everything good I ever find for myself in the world, if it doesn’t fit her vision of what she wants for me.”

The man winced. “Oh, she’s one of  _ those,” _ he said with distaste. “I hate those. The kind where if you so much as bring up getting a tattoo, they’ll start screaming that you’re ruining your life, that this isn’t what you want when in reality it isn’t what  _ they _ want. I hate those types.”

“Mhm,” Remy hummed. “She’s... _ the _ worst.”

“You look beat, kid,” the man said.

“I look how I feel, then,” Remy mumbled.

The man checked by the door but no one was standing there. “You should probably get some rest, kid, especially if your mom tries to get to you.”

“Like I could sleep when she knows where I live,” he laughed.

The man shook his head. “I know it seems like the end of the world, but if you make it clear you want nothing to do with her, sooner or later she’ll back off.”

“You’ve clearly never met her,” Remy sighed. But even as he said it, he was already drifting off to sleep from exhaustion.

When he next woke up, it was to the door of the holding cell opening with a screech. “Mister Picani,” an officer regarded him coolly. “Please come with me.”

Remy stood and followed, somewhat confused. He was led to the lobby, and handed his ID. Both Emile and his mother were waiting for him on opposite sides of the lobby, and the officer said. “The ID is legitimate. Our apologies for disrupting your morning.” And with that, the officer left.

Emile and his mother were both starting to talk to him at once, but Remy just watched the police officer leave. When he couldn’t even pretend to be distracted anymore he sighed, looked between them, and winced as he realized he was still in his pajamas and had no shoes, and he’d have to walk outside like this. He held up a hand and Emile paused in his tidal wave of apologies, but his mother was still going on her tirade. He sighed and gave Emile a look that roughly equated to  _ do you see what I have to deal with? _ and Emile snorted, nodding.

His mother paused at that, looking between the two of them. Remy took the opportunity to say, “Yeah, I’m going back to Emile’s place, Mom, and there’s nothing you can do about that. I’m not going home with you, I’m not doing whatever you want me to do to ‘redeem’ myself in your eyes, and you can’t stop me.”

“You’ll never get Tobias’ number,” his mother threatened.

Remy laughed, and even though it felt painfully fake to him, his mother looked shocked. “Oh, I doubt that Toby would even  _ want _ me calling him, Mom. After all, I only ever pestered him about everything, isn’t that what you said?”

Emile visibly twitched, fingers clenching and unclenching in a strangling motion at his sides.

“Don’t bother either of us again, Mom, Emile needs his time to study and I need to actually  _ work _ if I want to uphold my half of rent,” he said. “Come on, Emile, let’s go. I still need to get my shoes from yours.”

Emile looked down, seemed to notice Remy’s bare feet for the first time, and snickered as he said, “Yeah, I can’t imagine walking around barefoot is accepted at work. Let’s go.”

They walked out of the station in minorly strained silence. “I’m really sorry for yelling,” Emile said once they were in his car.

“It is what it is,” Remy said with a shrug. “Not like I’m going to break up with you over it.”

“Remy, I traumatized you. I...that’s not okay,” Emile said, glancing over at Remy.

Remy shrugged. “Don’t worry about it, Emile,” Remy said. “Give me some time and I’ll forgive you. It will take time, but provided you’re willing to give it to me...”

“Of course,” Emile said.

“Then it’s no worries,” Remy said. He bit his lip. “I really wish I could call Toby.”

“I’m sure you guys will find each other one day,” Emile said. “I doubt he’d just...give up on seeing you ever again.”

“I hope you’re right,” Remy mumbled, moping as he stared out the car window. “I just...could really use his support right about now.”


	29. Chapter 29

####  **April 14th, 1986**

Emile was hugging his stomach and trying to cry as quietly as possible, but he wasn’t very successful at staying quiet. His mother looked at him in the rearview mirror of the car. “Emile, what’s wrong?” she asked.

Sniffling, Emile couldn’t even form a single sentence. He just managed to choke out a, “Jamie...” before dissolving into tears.

“Emile, you apologized for shoving him. That’s all you can do, sweetheart. Whether or not he chooses to forgive you, you’ve done all you can,” his mother said.

“M-my fault...!” he bawled.

“And you owned up to it, sweetheart. You have to let it go, now. It’s in the past.”

Emile whimpered and tried to stop the tears, but they just kept coming. He felt terrible for Jamie getting scraped up all because Emile had pushed him a little too hard in a game of tag. Jamie had a bloody nose from it, too, and he didn’t seem to want to forgive Emile much at all. He felt absolutely terrible, and never wanted this feeling again.

####  **May 4th, 2001**

It had been a week since they had last seen Remy’s mother. A week since the police came to their apartment. A week since Emile had yelled at Remy. And Emile still felt like the scum of the earth for doing it. Remy was flinching at every sound around their apartment from the door of the refrigerator closing, to the sound of the chairs at the card table being moved across the floor. Emile had worked hard to try and build an environment where Remy could feel safe, and then Emile lost his temper and all of that work had instantly been undone.

He initially wanted to blame anyone but himself. After all, if Remy couldn’t handle anything but a very carefully balanced environment and still feel safe, that spoke more to him than Emile, didn’t it? But then Emile was reminded that it spoke to Remy’s past, and his trauma, and the fact that Emile was trying to blame Remy spoke  _ billions _ more about Emile than it did about Remy.

When the coffee pot hissed, it dragged Emile out of his thoughts and caused Remy to jump, again. Emile observed Remy a second too long as shaking hands poured coffee into the waiting mug, and Remy growled, “What?”

“Do...” words were getting caught in his throat, but Emile knew he had to ask this question sooner rather than later. “Do we need to talk about what happened last week?”

Remy scowled as he sipped his coffee. “I don’t see much of a reason to.”

“You don’t see much of a reason to?” Emile repeated.

“That’s what I said, Emile, yeah,” Remy said.

Emile stared at Remy again. “So you don’t see flinching at every sudden noise as a problem? You don’t think that maybe you shouldn’t jump whenever the coffee pot hisses, or when the TV’s static happens? Do you genuinely think that’s something that most people do?”

“Of course not!” Remy snapped. He sipped more of the coffee. “I’m talking to Kim about it, though.”

“Why her and not me, Rem?” Emile asked. “I’m the one who made you feel that way—”

“—No. Don’t you dare, Emile.”

“But I am! I’m the one who made you—”

“Emile Zachary Thomas, don’t you dare!” Remy snapped. “You’re not the one who hurt me! My mother is the one responsible for that!”

“I’m the one who yelled at you loud enough to make you hide in your room!” Emile exclaimed, tears coming to his eyes. “I’m the one who did that!”

“Yeah, and you’ve yelled before, both over good and bad things, and I might flinch a little but I never run and hide! The only reason I did it then is because the events with my mother were still fresh in my mind, and I made a connection between the two events that wouldn’t have been made if  _ my mother _ weren’t stalking me! This is  _ not _ your fault!” Remy declared.

Emile wanted to argue, to say that he shouldn’t yell at  _ any _ time, that he  _ never _ wanted Remy to feel unsafe and he had at the very least  _ contributed _ to that, but Remy didn’t appear to be open to a discussion on that topic, so he shoved a shaking fist against his mouth and tried to fight back the overwhelming feeling of nausea he was getting. “Is Kim helping?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Remy said. “The breathing and stuff helps a little. And we’re going to be talking about the reappearance of my mother and how I draw parallels to my past from it the next time we talk, because we ran out of time last session.”

“Okay, that’s good,” Emile said softly. “I really am sorry, Remy.”

“Emile...” Remy huffed. “You have nothing to apologize for. Because you yelled last week, and you apologized then. I told you it might take time for me to forgive you, and I have, given the time you provided me. It’s in the past,  _ mio amore, _ you don’t need to worry about it.”

“But—”

“—No. There are no but’s in this situation,” Remy said firmly. “Stop trying to make yourself the bad guy, Emile, because you’re not.”

“I made a mistake!” Emile exclaimed.

Remy ran his hands through his hair. “Exactly! It was a mistake! Only a mistake! You didn’t do it with malicious intent! You didn’t do it to scare me into submission, you didn’t do it to traumatize me and make me hurt! You did it because you were angry and you didn’t think through your actions! Does that mean you shouldn’t be held responsible? Of course not, but you already held yourself responsible! You already apologized! It’s in the past! Saying your a terrible person over this? Is inching into guilt-trip territory. Believing that past infractions can’t be resolved with a simple apology is obsession!” Remy’s breath was heaving in his chest as he grit out, “Even I know an apology should be enough, Emile. You can’t obsess over every single mistake you make, because no one is perfect, and no one should be held to a perfect standard.”

“But I should be held to a  _ higher _ standard! I’m training to be a therapist, I should know better!” Emile exclaimed.

“Key word: training! You’re going to make mistakes, Emile! You’ll have to accept it, learn from them, and move forward,” Remy said. “You can set that bar for yourself as high as you like, but set it too high and all that will happen is you’ll hurt yourself. I don’t want that any more than you do.”

“Maybe I’m a masochist, you don’t know,” Emile muttered.

“Worst masochist in the world, if you’re going to fixate on every imperfection you have while trying to build everyone else up,” Remy said. “Because I can’t imagine a pain heavier than that.”

Emile shook, trying to come up with a reason as to why he shouldn’t be forgiven yet. He certainly didn’t  _ feel _ like he shouldn’t be forgiven, not by anyone, let alone  _ Remy. _ “I can’t...I can’t let it go,” Emile said. “Because I hurt you, after trying so long to avoid that. Even when I teased you I would never let a shred of ill-intent slip in. But when your mother came around...I couldn’t understand why you couldn’t see things from my perspective. And I got angry, and I wanted...I wanted you to shut up. To see things from my perspective, and understand why I was that upset. And I should have calmly asked you to see things from my side, instead of shouting you down.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Remy allowed. “But you already apologized for this, Emile. It’s time to let it go.”

“But...I don’t...I can’t...I  _ hurt _ you!” Emile exclaimed.

Remy sighed, putting down his coffee cup and holding Emile’s face with his hands so they were looking each other in the eye. “Emile. I’m not debating with you on this anymore. You’ve been forgiven. You can hold onto that guilt if you want, because I can’t exactly stop you just by telling you no, but  _ I forgive you. _ There’s no  _ reason _ to harbor that guilt.”

“No reason?” Emile repeated.

“No reason,” Remy confirmed, going back to his coffee.

Emile watched Remy mutely. He didn’t understand how Remy could just...say that. It felt like he was disregarding his own safety!

“I know what you’re thinking, Emile,” Remy said with an eye-roll. “And no, this is  _ not _ me disregarding my own safety. I’ve taken a good, hard look at the situation. And the fact of the matter is that you’re not a threat to me. You’ve worked very hard to prove that to me. I believe you when you say that you didn’t mean to yell. I haven’t talked about it with you yet because I knew you were going to blame yourself for it, and I wasn’t prepared for you externalizing that thought.  _ That _ would remind me painfully of my mother, so  _ that’s _ why I’m not, you know, voluntarily poking that bear. I’m talking about this with Kim. We’re working our way through some of the bigger problems I faced with my family.  _ It’s okay. _ I don’t blame you for any of this.”

Emile searched Remy’s face, and was somewhat surprised to find he was dead serious. “Okay,” Emile said. “So, if you’re sure about this—”

“—I am absolutely sure,” Remy said.

“—Then there’s a question that I wanted to ask you that my family has been pestering me about,” Emile said, scratching the back of his neck.

“Provided it’s not a proposal, I’ll consider it,” Remy said with a smirk. “I just think it’s a little too soon to get married.”

“Agreed,” Emile rushed to assure. “No, my parents were wanting to meet you. I talked about you over Thanksgiving and winter breaks, obviously, so they’ve grown curious about you.”

Remy blinked. “And...do you want me to meet them?”

“I mean, yeah,” Emile said. “I think that even if we only wind up being friends in the end, my parents would like you.”

“And you’ve already met my mother, not that she liked you very much,” Remy laughed. “When were they hoping to meet?”

“Uh...Memorial Day weekend, provided neither of us were working. Which, I put in my request to have off that weekend anyway, because the sales and rabid PTA moms are going to kill me,” Emile said.

“Oh, yeah, I applied for off time then too, just because...I knew you were trying to get it off and I was hoping we could spend at least one day together,” Remy mumbled.

“That’s gay,” Emile snickered.

“You better believe it!” Remy exclaimed, waving his coffee mug around. “Honestly, Emile, what do you expect from me?”

“True,” Emile laughed. “So are you in?”

“Yeah, sure, why not, provided I get the time off,” Remy said. “It could be fun, I guess. And your parents couldn’t  _ possibly _ be worse than mine.”

Emile squawked in shock before clamping a hand over his mouth until his entire body quaked with his laughter. “They’re not neglectful or abusive, although that doesn’t mean they can’t suffocate me sometimes,” he managed to say. “But yes, I doubt they’re worse than yours.”

Remy was grinning at Emile’s reaction. “What are your parents even like?” he asked.

“Uh...my dad’s a sports nut. Not, like, with numbers and statistics on teams, although he’s good at that. He just loves playing any and every sport, especially badminton, for reasons that I can’t understand. My mom’s a terrible cook, my dad has banned her from the kitchen, but it’s all in good fun,” Emile said with a shrug. “They both know I’m bisexual, and they don’t care who I’m with so long as I’m happy.”

“Okay...?” Remy said. “Anything else?”

“Honestly, my parents are an experience unto themselves. You just kind of...strap yourself in and get to know them as you go. I don’t think I could prepare you in terms of how excited they’ll be to meet you, or how insistent they’ll be that they will be cooking and you are  _ not _ allowed to join them, because you’re the guest,” Emile said.

“But I like cooking!” Remy protested.

Emile blinked. “Rem, you eat granola bars for breakfast and instant ramen for dinner every night we don’t go out to eat.”

“That doesn’t mean I  _ can’t _ cook or that I don’t  _ want _ to!” Remy exclaimed. “We can’t exactly afford quality ingredients yet, but when we can, I’ll prove to you that I  _ can _ cook. And I  _ will _ fight your parents on the right to help with dinner.”

“That’ll go over  _ great,” _ Emile laughed. “Good luck with it.”

Remy grinned. “Thanks, I’ll certainly try.”

“You know what sarcasm is, right?” Emile asked, arching an eyebrow with a smirk. They sometimes had this conversation, quoting back to their first real time out together, and every time, it made Emile smile.

“Oh, yeah,” Remy said, finishing off his coffee and flashing Emile a grin that had Emile’s stomach doing flips. “I just choose to ignore yours.”


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note that for the next two weeks or so I'm on vacation in an entirely different time zone, so if my updates seem wonky that's _probably_ why.

####  **March 25th, 1999**

Toby knocked on Remy’s bedroom door, but Remy just sat against it, not allowing him in. “Remy, come on, talk to me, please?” Toby all but begged.

Remy didn’t reply.

“Rem,  _ please. _ I want to talk to you,” Toby said.

It took all the willpower Remy possessed, but he managed to keep the door closed. Toby had been his one positive influence from someone who could pass as an adult for...as long as Remy could remember, really. And then his parents had to screw that up, and lie about Remy, and make Toby write less and less until he didn’t write at all. To make matters worse, if he got Toby to write him again there was no doubt in his mind that their parents would rake Toby over the coals for it.

Just once, for  _ once _ in his life, Remy wanted an adult to like him, to be proud of him, to trust him. He wanted respect. Not that he deserved any, but he wanted it anyway.

####  **May 26th, 2001**

Remy played with his hands in the car, breathing very carefully so that he didn’t have a panic attack. Emile was constantly sending him glances, and even with music playing in the car, the atmosphere was tense. “You know, Rem, my parents are going to absolutely adore you,” he said.

“But what if they don’t?” Remy asked. “You’re not a mind-reader, you can’t just magically know if they’ll be okay with me dating you or not!”

“Maybe not,” Emile allowed. “But I do know that in everything I’ve done over the years, so long as it makes me happy and it’s not hurting anyone else, they’ll support it. And you make me... _ very _ happy.”

“But...but...I can’t even bring you home to my parents,” Remy said, cheeks flaring red. “Because I can’t even bring myself to tell them I’m gay.”

“That’s a safety issue, Rem. You’re not ashamed of being my boyfriend, are you?”

“Of course not!” Remy replied, hands balling into fists, ready to fight.

Emile slowly pried one of Remy’s fists open and Remy sighed, letting his grip go lax. “Then they’ll love you. Because you love me and I love you back, and you make me happy.”

Remy took a deep breath and let it out slowly, nodding. “All right,” he breathed.

Emile pulled to a stop at the curb and gave Remy’s hand a squeeze, stepping out of the car. Remy slowly opened his door and did the same, standing at the edge of a small lawn, while Emile spoke to a man and a woman who had to be his parents.

They turned to him, and he cleared his throat, scratching the back of his neck. “Nice to meet you, Mister and Misses Thomas...”

Misses Thomas stared at him for a few seconds, before turning to her son and asking, “Emile, when are you going to marry this young man?”

“Mom!” Emile exclaimed, going red as a tomato, and Remy wasn’t much better.

“Well, the way you speak about him, he clearly makes you happy,” she said. “When are you going to pop the question?”

Remy was torn between dying of laughter and embarrassment. Clearly, his fears about Emile’s parents not liking him were unfounded.

“Mom! I’m not proposing to him! We’ve been dating all of...like, a month!” Emile said.

“Never too early to start planning,” Misses Thomas said with an enigmatic smile.

“Yes, it is,” Emile said. He turned to Remy and said, “I’m so sorry.”

“Still not worse than my parents,” Remy choked out.

Emile choked on his laughter and Remy managed to crack a small smile. “You’re right, and I hate that you’re right,” Emile said.

“Your father and I made a whole plan to figure out whether or not we need to adopt your boyfriend and in two sentences you undo all our hard work!” Misses Thomas scolded Emile with no real heat behind the words. “Remy, we’re adopting you one way or another. If Emile doesn’t make you our son-in-law we are legally adopting you.”

Remy turned to Emile, squinting. “Did you tell them about my parents?”

“No details!” Emile rushed to assure. “But, they did sorta need to know why we were moving off campus, and over Christmas I mentioned that you were going solo...and they asked why...and...well, my parents know when I’m lying.”

“Everyone knows when you’re lying, honey, your poker face is terrible,” Remy said.

Emile sputtered and Remy’s smile grew into something more relaxed, more natural. “How dare you!” Emile exclaimed, putting a hand over his heart. “I’ll have you know that I have lied to you before and you haven’t known about it!”

“Okay, first of all, that’s not really something you should be admitting,” Remy said, holding up a single finger. “Second of all, I know you were lying about saying that blue shirt doesn’t make me look like a girl, I know you were lying about witnessing Theo and Clara’s drinking games, and I know you were lying all the way back on the day after Halloween when you said I didn’t say anything about liking anybody. Granted, the last one I realized looking back after learning your tells, but yeah, you suck at lying.”

Emile still looked offended and Remy just shrugged with a little smile. “Sorry, but it’s true.”

_ “You _ suck,” Emile said.

“I mean, if you ask nicely, but really? In front of your own parents?” Remy laughed.

“I—what? No! No, that is not what I—” Emile cut himself short as he blushed furiously while his parents both laughed.

Remy beamed proudly and Emile was both glaring daggers and blushing as red as Remy had ever seen him blush before. And he had to admit that making Emile blush was kind of fun. Not fun enough to torture him with it, but every once in a while he might make a jab.

When Mister Thomas finally came up for air, he put a hand on Remy’s shoulder and declared, “I like you already.”

Remy blinked in surprise and turned to Emile. Despite furious blushing, Emile said, “Yep, he really means that.”

“Oh. Okay,” Remy said. He wasn’t entirely sure what to make of that. He had never met any of his boyfriends’ parents before in the capacity of being a boyfriend, but the parents he had met were fiercely protective of their sons from any girl coming within a ten mile radius. But to make his boyfriends’ parents laugh genuinely, and to have them  _ like _ him, for real...he was getting a little choked up.

Emile walked closer, until they could almost touch foreheads if both of them moved a few inches. “You okay?” Emile asked in a low whisper.

“Not used to...positive attention from people older than me,” Remy said.

“Theo gives you positive attention.”

“Theo is also still in college, and therefore by most people’s standards still a kid,” Remy shot back. “I mean like. Actual adults who have done their taxes several years in a row.”

“So like...people you  _ perceive _ as adults while still technically being an adult yourself,” Emile filled in.

“I guess,” Remy agreed. “Regardless of semantics, I’m still surprised.”

“I  _ said _ my parents would adore you, I’m not sure why you’re so shocked,” Emile teased.

Remy shrugged. “Uh...trauma? Or something?” he asked.

Emile sobered and nodded. “Yeah, I guess so. You saying stuff like that makes me want to hug you, though, I’ll warn you.”

“I won’t object to hugs from you...right now, at any rate.”

No sooner had he said that than Emile wrapped his arms around Remy and held him tightly. Remy offered a light hug back, knowing it paled in comparison to Emile’s hugs, but feeling like that was all he could give in the moment.

It felt like a scene from a rom-com, almost overused and most definitely too common for most people’s tastes, but to a select few, it meant the world. And to Remy, having a select few moments where he was allowed to take in Emile’s warmth, his scent, his everything in unfamiliar territory, well...he hadn’t felt this safe since before Toby went off to college.

That revelation made Remy stiffen minutely. He felt just as safe with Emile as he had with Toby, possibly more so. How was he supposed to understand that? How was he supposed to  _ share _ that? Emile pulled away as Remy stiffened and Remy moved his hand down Emile’s back until he could grab Emile’s hand and interlace their fingers. He opened his mouth, but no words came out.

“You okay?” Emile asked again.

“Um. Yeah.” Remy scratched the back of his neck. “I’m fine since you’re here.”

That seemed to have a semi-successful message, because Emile gave Remy’s hand a squeeze with a warm, knowing smile, and Emile dragged him to the trunk, where their stuff was. “We can both share my old room, Mom,” Emile said. “Provided that’s okay with you, Rem?”

“Would we be...sharing a bed?” Remy asked.

“No, I had a bed I used for sleeping and then I had another one for guests, and to stuff massive amounts of pillows on,” Emile said. “We probably wouldn’t  _ fit _ on one bed. We’re both pretty tall.”

Remy snorted. “True.” He took the suitcase Emile passed him, which he recognized as his by the distinct lack of cartoon-y stickers covering it. During this, Emile never let go of his hand, which Remy appreciated. Emile grabbed his own suitcase and closed the trunk, before taking a breath and saying, “Shall we go inside? At least long enough to put our suitcases in my room?”

“Oh, of course, sweetheart. Do you need any help with your bags?” Misses Thomas asked.

“I think we’ve got it, Mom,” Emile said with a small smile. He didn’t let go of Remy’s hand until they were in his room.

Remy wasn’t sure what he expected to see with Emile’s room. There was a stuffed animal or two, and pillows on two perfectly-made beds, but the paint was fading in different patches all over the walls, patches where posters must have been. The closet was open and empty, and there wasn’t anything on the desk in the room that screamed “Emile lived here.” It was...too bare-bones for him to really understand that Emile grew up in this house, slept in this room. It felt...wrong.

“Hey, Rem?” Emile asked softly.

Remy hummed.

“Can we talk a little bit about what you said?”

Remy turned to look at Emile, who had sat down on one of the beds, looking like he saw a ghost. “Yeah. Though I have to say, this room doesn’t look like an Emile Thomas room, not without cartoon posters and figurines and stuffed animals everywhere.”

Emile smiled, but it was strained. “You said you felt safe since I was here. What does that mean?”

Remy swallowed. He still wasn’t sure how he was supposed to share that. “It means...it means that you feel safe, in my head. Toby was the same way, when we were kids.” Remy began to pace, hands flying around his face as he tried to explain. “Toby was the one who made sure I was okay when Mom and Dad fought. Vanessa never did it, for one reason or another, but Toby would help me calm down and stay quiet and out of the way. So Toby grew to represent safety. He’s...yeah. He’s still safe, wherever he is, and the reason it was a sucker-punch when I lost him wasn’t just because I lost him, but I lost that safety too. But...but when you hugged me today, I realized that I get the same kind of comfort from you now. You just...you feel safe. I can’t describe all that entails or why you feel that way, but you do.”

Emile took a breath, and let it out slowly. “Oh...okay.”

“Is that bad?” Remy asked.

“No! No, it’s not bad,” Emile rushed to assure, standing up and walking over to Remy, taking his hands. “I’m honored to be your safe space. I just...I didn’t realize I was. I didn’t realize...that you trusted me that much. I guess that’s my bad for assuming, huh?”

Remy shrugged. “It’s whatever, don’t worry about it. I didn’t realize that I did that either, until like five minutes ago. And your parents seem really sweet, but I’m still lowkey terrified.”

“Oh, I know what will change that,” Emile said with a grin.

“What?” Remy asked.

Emile bounced to his bedroom door and hollered through the house, “Hey, Dad! Can Remy and I help with lunch?!”

There was a faint, “Sure!” from somewhere inside, and Remy blinked.

“Well, I didn’t expect him to agree that fast!” Emile laughed. “My dad loves to cook, and the more you cook with him, the more you get to know him. He’ll make sure you feel right at ease while you work. I’ve been learning how to make stuff from him, although I use shortcuts when I can. You might enjoy helping him cook from scratch.”

“Sounds fun,” Remy admitted.

“It is fun! Do you want to head down now and help figure out what we’ll be eating?” Emile asked.

Remy offered a small smile and a nod. “Sure, why not?”


	31. Chapter 31

####  **November 21st, 1987**

“There, you see, Emile? It’s as easy as that,” his dad said, helping Emile stir the noodles in the pot.

“And when this is done we’ll have mac and cheese?” Emile looked up at his dad.

With a smile, his dad nodded. “We’ll have dinner, and we’ll have spent time together. And both of those things are extremely important, and good for the soul.”

Emile nodded sagely. He didn’t always understand what his dad was saying, but in this case it seemed really, really important. He hoped that one day soon, he would understand what “good for the soul” meant.

####  **May 26th, 2001**

Remy was laughing with Emile’s dad, and Emile was watching them both fondly. He was really glad that Remy had jumped on the chance to cook. He definitely knew how to slice and dice, and Emile was impressed. Now whether he could  _ cook _ the things he was cutting up was another story entirely. “You don’t think we have stuff to make half a dozen cupcakes, do you?” Remy asked.

“We might, why do you ask?” Dad replied.

“Well...we kinda forgot to celebrate Emile’s birthday due to an...unfortunate situation up in town.”

“A...situation?” Dad asked.

“Yeah, we had so much of a situation we accidentally forgot about Emile’s birthday and didn’t get to celebrate,” Remy said sheepishly. “And then it came time to pay rent and we just...never celebrated. But I really want to fix that.”

Dad nodded. “We’ll be making cupcakes then,” he said simply.

“That’s...that’s really not necessary, Dad, we don’t have to celebrate,” Emile said.

“Of course we do, you’ve turned twenty! That’s plenty of cause to celebrate!” his dad declared. “Two whole decades on this planet!”

“You turned twenty? Not nineteen?” Remy asked.

“I was held back in kindergarten,” Emile waved off. “I hadn’t yet learned to read, believe it or not.”

“You didn’t know how to read when you were five?” Remy asked skeptically. “You?”

Emile shrugged. “Took until I was six for everything to click properly. Once I figured it out, I was quickly moving to the top of my class.”

“Ah,” Remy said. “You  _ would _ have an origin story like that.”

Emile frowned. He had no clue what that was supposed to mean. “What?”

“Just...your brain seems to operate like a supercomputer, sometimes. You went from knowing virtually nothing to knowing virtually everything you asked about within the span of a year. You  _ would. _ Because this is you we’re talking about, and you’re nothing if not extraordinary.”

“That’s gay, Rem,” Emile said, a smile tugging at his lips.

_ “We’re _ gay, Emile,” Remy pointed out.

_ “You’re _ gay.  _ I’m _ bisexual,” Emile teased.

Remy rolled his eyes and shook his head, and Emile laughed, heart warming. He loved having little domestic moments with Remy, it made him think that they could stay together forever. He moved closer and kissed Remy’s cheek, and Remy turned red. “Stop!” he said, playfully swatting Emile’s arm. “That’s not playing fair!”

“Who said I intended to play fair?” Emile asked with a wink.

“If you’re not playing fair, you can leave the kitchen,” Remy said. “Because I need to focus on cooking.”

“Okay, boys, one of you grab a pot and fill it up with water, will you?” Dad asked.

Emile went to grab a pot, and Remy looked at the bowl they were using to mix ingredients for their meatballs with a frown. “The meatballs are missing something,” he mused.

“We added everything in the recipe,” Dad said.

“No, no, I know that,” Remy said. “But that won’t give the meatballs an extra  _ kick _ in the tastebuds. It needs something else.” Remy stared at the bowl intently before saying, “Olive oil. Do you have any olive oil? I think we’ll only need like, two tablespoons.”

Dad silently passed Remy the bottle of olive oil and Remy poured in what looked to be about two tablespoons, mixing it into the meat in the bowl. Emile watched curiously. “You know, if this goes wrong, all the blame for the food tasting weird is going to land on your shoulders. Jokingly, of course, but still.”

“It won’t go wrong,” Remy said. “Let’s get these suckers in the oven and start cooking the rice.”

Emile pulled out a cookie sheet they would use to bake the meatballs on and watched in fascination as Remy near-expertly rolled the meatballs in seconds, putting them on the tray just so. Dad whistled. “You never told me your boyfriend knew his way around the kitchen, Emile.”

Remy was grinning as he worked. Emile said, “Dad, he only eats granola and instant ramen at home. I didn’t even know he knew  _ how _ to cook.”

“Never judge a book by its cover, Emile. I would have thought you lived by that philosophy,” Remy teased.

Emile rolled his eyes. “I never said you  _ couldn’t _ cook. Cooking wasn’t brought up between us until the day you agreed to come home with me.”

“You doubted me a little,” Remy said, squinting at Emile. “You were skeptical.”

“So I was wrong, what’s the big deal?” Emile asked.

“Nothing much, I’m just happy to know you’re not perfect,” Remy said. “Lowers the bar for my expected performance just a bit.”

“You know, no one expects you to be perfect, Rem,” Emile said.

Remy scowled. “My parents do.”

“No one who matters, then,” Emile said before he could stop himself.

Remy froze and rounded on Emile, hands coated in flour still as he crossed his arms. “Are you saying my parents don’t matter?”

“Are you saying that you still want to meet their standards after they made it very clear that they’d rather have you  _ dead _ than  _ happy?” _ Emile asked.

Dad choked and Emile winced. “That...I would say it’s not as bad as it sounds, Dad, but I’d be lying,” Emile sighed.

“Hey, my parents may be a little controlling, but they’ll come around,” Remy said. “Once I make it clear that this makes me happy, they’ll see that I can handle myself, and they’ll be glad I’m happy.”

Emile knew that wasn’t true. In all his twenty years of existence, people who he had met that were like Remy’s parents didn’t rest until they saw you as perfect, by  _ their _ standards and not anyone else’s. Emile would treat them civilly, and with respect, but to him, their opinions meant jack. Clearly, though, Remy was clinging to the hope that his parents might come around.

Emile didn’t want to dash those hopes, but he also didn’t want Remy to be let down when his parents failed him again. And they  _ would _ fail him again if they didn’t get their act together. Emile doubted they would even make an  _ attempt _ to fix the rift they had created. To them, everything was fine and Remy was the problem child. He didn’t know how to respond. “If you say so,” Emile said.

“You don’t believe me,” Remy huffed.

“No, I don’t,” Emile admitted. “But there is always a chance, and if you want to hold onto that infinitesimal chance, then I can’t exactly stop you.”

“Infinitesimal,” Remy repeated. “You really think...you haven’t even met my parents properly!”

“I met your mother at the police station after they put you in holding,” Emile said. “And I was not a fan.”

“I take it this is the ‘incident’ in question?” Dad asked.

“Unfortunately,” Emile said. “Remy’s mother claimed he was a runaway staying at our apartment so that she could drag him back to his parents’ house and they could continue to dictate his life.”

“You’re making it out to be way worse than it was!” Remy protested.

“You were put in a  _ holding cell, _ Rem!” Emile snapped back.

“Boys, please,” Dad cut in. “Clearly, this is a touchy subject for both of you. Take a step back and regroup before you try and resolve this, okay? Shouting at each other will get you nowhere.”

Emile huffed and Remy just silently turned back to the meatballs. Dad looked at Emile and arched an eyebrow, decidedly unimpressed with Emile’s behavior, and Emile wanted to hide his face in a sweater, or else just go to his room until he cooled off. But he couldn’t leave Remy alone, so Emile scowled back at him. Dad didn’t know the context of the situation, he couldn’t understand what the big deal was!

Dad just gave him that level, thousand-yard stare back. Emile hadn’t been on the receiving end of that one for a long time. It was usually his last warning before he got a talking-to. Inwardly, he scoffed. A talking-to. Like he didn’t know Remy better than his dad or even his mom did. They had known Remy all of two hours. Emile pat Remy’s shoulder twice and left the room. He was  _ not _ having this discussion. It just wasn’t worth it. He didn’t want to explain why he was so angry, especially considering that he would have to go into Remy’s family life, and Remy didn’t like anyone doing that.

Emile stalked all the way to his room, and flopped down on his bed. He really wasn’t up for this as much as he thought he was. Maybe coming here for the weekend was a bad idea.

He stared at the ceiling for an indeterminable amount of time before there was a knock on his bedroom door. He flipped over onto his stomach and buried his head in his pillow. “Not now, Mom.”

“Emile, you haven’t stormed out of any room since you were fourteen years old. Something is wrong, and I know you’ll feel better if you talk about it sooner rather than later,” Mom said.

“No,” Emile repeated, burying his head in his pillow further.

His mom tutted. “You know, you’re acting an awful lot like how you described Remy in the beginning of your relationship,” she said neutrally.

Emile pushed himself off the bed, pacing and running his hands through his hair. “Yeah? Well I understand where he was coming from, now, so maybe it’s normal to act like that after meeting his fu—”

“—Think carefully before you finish that sentence,” his mom warned.

“He’s clinging to a hope that’s completely unrealistic! I’ve met people like his parents before, and all they want is for you to meet their expectations, no matter how impossible it is to reach them! He’s setting himself up for failure, and I don’t want to see him get hurt!” Emile growled.

“Then tell him where you’re coming from,” his mom said.

Emile laughed incredulously. “Don’t you think I would have already tried that?! He’s completely closed off to feedback!”

“Yeah, well, given your delivery of  _ this _ little rant, it’s a small wonder he listens to you at all,” his mom said. “You’re not exactly being gentle.”

Emile scoffed. “Every time I try to be gentle, he shuts me down! He hates sugarcoating, but he also won’t listen  _ at all _ when it comes to those two idiots he has the misfortune to call his parents!”

His mom stepped in front of Emile, and forced him to stay still. She gazed up into his eyes and smiled softly. “Emile, you can’t save everyone. Not everyone  _ wants _ to be saved. And you have a long way to go before you know almost everything about helping people through past trauma. Have you ever considered that, maybe, he doesn’t like sugarcoating because he feels lied to? Furthermore, maybe his parents are a sensitive topic, one of the few where no matter  _ what _ you do, you have to be gentle. Sugarcoating might not be the way to go, but you can’t just storm in and expect him to listen to you, especially when you’re acting the way you are right now.”

“Why can’t he understand that wanting them to be there is hurting him? He’s the reason he’s setting himself up for disappointment. And if they don’t change and he lets them back in his life, he’s going to get hurt worse,” Emile said.

His mom gave him a hug. “Honey, you  _ can’t save everyone. _ No one expects you to. And if Remy wants to believe his parents can change, let him for now. It means he isn’t ready to accept your view on the matter yet.”

“What if he’s never ready?” Emile asked. “What if he continuously tries to convince himself his parents will change their mind?”

“Then you let him believe that, honey,” his mom said. “And if you can’t stand to watch him get hurt, then you walk away.”

Emile swallowed, but nodded. He didn’t like that prospect, but he knew that his mom was right. If watching Remy get hurt was going to hurt Emile, then clearly he couldn’t stick around forever watching Remy get worse and worse, over and over.


	32. Chapter 32

####  **November 4th, 1993**

Emile swallowed and shifted on his feet as his mom looked him over. He must have been quite the sight, covered head to toe in dirt and blood. To be fair, Sully had started the fight, but something told him that Mom wouldn’t want to hear that right now. Sully had started it, but Emile had finished it. By shoving Sully into the side of the building, which happened to be where the metal gutter was, landing Sully with a concussion.

Finally, his mom took a breath. Emile knew this lecture was going to be long, but he didn’t know exactly how long it might be, and that’s where the real fear kicked in. He hoped he’d have time for dinner before bed, but judging by the look Mom was giving him, his odds weren’t very high.

####  **May 26th, 2001**

Emile finally left his room when his dad called up that it was time for lunch. He walked down the stairs to find Remy resolutely  _ not _ looking at him as he sat at the table with a plate of meatballs with some sauce Emile couldn’t identify, and rice on the side. Emile sat down next to him tentatively, where another plate was waiting. Remy didn’t acknowledge him.

His mom and dad came in with plates of their own, his mom said grace, and they all started to eat. Remy went for the rice first, but Emile was curious and immediately halved a meatball, skewering it and humming in surprise. The olive oil brought a depth of flavor to the meatballs that he had never tasted before! “The olive oil was a good call, Rem,” Emile said. “I’m super impressed.”

Remy’s eyes flickered over to him for half a second. “You mean that?”

“Yeah! I’ve never had the meatballs taste like this before, and it’s absolutely delicious.”

Remy’s smile at that was small, and shy, but completely genuine. He wasn’t putting up a front, or playing up his emotions. He was genuinely pleased. And in Emile’s mind, he definitely should be. “It’s been forever since I’ve cooked,” Remy admitted. “I missed it.”

“Well, if this is what you can do with simple ingredients, we’ll have to invest in real food more often,” Emile said. “This is, without a doubt, the best meal I’ve had in months.”

“Emile!” Remy laughed, cheeks flaming red. “You’re gonna embarrass me!”

Emile shrugged and said, “Well, I’m just sharing my opinion,” before backing off and going back to eating.

The atmosphere in the room was slightly less tense after that, though no one really said much, aside from the occasional praise to Remy about improving the recipe. Remy ducked his head with a blush every time, but Emile could see that he really enjoyed the end result of his experiment. It got Emile thinking. Remy would make an excellent cook at a restaurant, or he could probably make new mixes for coffee at the smaller chain, if his managers let him. But food service seemed to be where Remy excelled. He knew a lot about business and math, but he  _ enjoyed _ cooking. He tucked that thought away for later. He was sure he could make sense out of a half-baked idea at some point in the future.

“So, Remy, do you want to tell us a little about yourself?” Mom asked. “Obviously, you’re a wonderful cook, but outside that.”

Remy shrugged. “I mean, I kinda like sports. Not to the point where I’d be called a sports nut, but it passes the time, and it’s fun to play and to watch. I’ve read some...novels, and books, but uh...my biggest hobby by far has to be...uh...comics. Like, DC, Marvel, anything in between, indie companies, I love them all.”

“Oh, that’s nice!” Mom said. “Do you think you like comics as much as Emile likes cartoons?”

“I’m not sure if anyone could like  _ anything _ as much as Emile likes cartoons,” Remy laughed. “But yeah, I’m pretty enthusiastic about them.”

“Who’s your favorite superhero? You can’t like comics without having  _ some _ kind of favorite superhero. Or perhaps a supervillain?” Dad asked.

“How about an antihero?” Remy shot back. “Deadpool is by far my favorite comic series. Anything with Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy comes in second, and first for everything DC, but Deadpool takes the cake.”

“He’s tried to explain the timelines to me, but I can’t keep up with them,” Emile said with a shake of his head. “It’s too confusing.”

“You just lack the ability to apply ret-conning,” Remy informed him. “That makes understanding timelines so much easier.”

Emile and Remy fell into banter about whether or not cartoons or comics were better that had them both laughing by the end of lunch. Everyone put their dishes in the kitchen to be washed later and Dad asked, “Do you boys want to do anything in particular? If you want, we can always go to the community center for a game of basketball or something similar.”

“Uh...if you don’t mind, Mister Thomas, I’d like to talk to Emile alone a minute, first,” Remy said.

Emile’s hair stood on end as his dad nodded. “If I hear shouting, I  _ will _ come over to break it up,” he said. “You both are mature enough that I hope it won’t be a problem.”

That unspoken  _ behave _ may as well have been written on a neon sign to Emile. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes as Remy led him upstairs, back to Emile’s room. Remy closed the door behind him softly and hissed, “How many times do I have to  _ tell _ you, Emile, I don’t like you talking smack about my family!”

“It was a knee-jerk response,” Emile said, crossing his arms.

“The first sentence might have been. The  _ rest _ certainly wasn’t,” Remy snarled.

“Well, what do you want me to do? Lie to your face and tell you I believe you when you say your parents will change?” Emile challenged. “Look, Rem, I don’t want to hurt you, but you’re setting yourself up to be hurt again putting that hope in your parents!”

“Yeah?” Remy asked. “You’re so certain they’re going to fail me, huh?”

“Every person I’ve ever met who has acted like your mother did never changed their tune. I’m speaking from experience, Remy! I don’t want you to get hurt anymore!”

“They can change!” Remy exclaimed. “They took Vanessa and Toby and I on trips when we were little, and they were doting and caring to  _ all _ of us at one point or another. They have  _ good _ in them, Emile! They have good days! They can get  _ more _ good days if they only put in the effort!”

“Is it worth it, though?” Emile asked. “You’re ripping at the seams, a thread that’s slowly unravelling into insanity. You  _ know _ your parents weren’t good to you, Rem. You’ve been over this with me  _ and _ with Kim. But do you know what Kim might not have told you?”

“What?” Remy asked.

“Any good days that they had do not negate the bad days and the hell they put you through most of the time. If you believe they can be good? Then great. Let them  _ prove it to you. _ Don’t force them to do anything, don’t be the one to reach out first. Make sure that they know you’re serious, you won’t back down, you’re your own person.” Emile shook his head. “You’re making excuses for them and putting all your eggs in one basket. What happens if they  _ don’t _ come around?”

“They will,” Remy said with certainty.

“But what if they don’t? What happens if they only accept you to a point? They say that you can be who you want in terms of a job, but you can’t be gay, or you can’t have certain people as your friends? There’s always something with those types, Rem. Something will always keep them from being happy.”

Remy’s fists were shaking at his sides. He brought up a hand and Emile flinched, but Remy just pointed. “You know that  _ you _ can act like a real ass, Emile? It’s not just me who has my moments, or my months!”

Emile took a deep breath, remembering his mother’s words about being gentle. “Remy, I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, holding his hands up. “I’m trying to be realistic, and I know you don’t like it when I sugarcoat things.”

“You talk about my family like they’re all scum,” Remy said. “Well not all of them are that bad, or bad at all! Toby’s the one who gave me ‘the talk’ when I told him I was gay! Vanessa always snuck me snacks if I was banished to my room for however long and I might have missed a meal! Nate and Magenta are angels! Not all my family is my parents, Emile, and even my parents have the potential to change!”

“But it’s only  _ potential, _ Rem. I don’t want you taking all your hopes and putting it on potential. I don’t want your mom to keep stalking you. I don’t want your parents to ship you off to the military. I don’t want you getting hurt. I just...I can’t find the pretty words to explain why something won’t work!” Emile exclaimed. “I know it can’t work, but you disagree, and I can’t figure out how to get you to see it from my side!”

“I have seen it from your side!” Remy exclaimed. “I saw it from your side on Thanksgiving. When my mom came to me at work. When I put all my hopes on you and moved in with you. But you have extreme, visceral reactions whenever my family gets brought up that make me feel sick to my stomach. They’re not bad people, Emile!”

“They’re bad  _ parents,” _ Emile insisted. “And bad grandparents. Your cousins and Vanessa are mostly off the hook for now, and Toby was never on it, but your parents? And grandparents? And the aunts and uncles who wouldn’t stand in your corner when you needed it? They’re hurting you, whether intentional or not, actively or passively. And I don’t want to see you hurt!” Emile’s eyes were clouding with tears. “I love you, you idiot! I don’t want to see you hurt!”

“But you hurt me too! When you say my family is evil and my parents are bad and toxic,  _ that _ hurts me too! Because I want to believe that my family can be good! And you refuse to give them that chance!” Remy hugged own torso. “Maybe I give them too much of a chance, but you  _ definitely _ give them too little.  _ I _ could change, why couldn’t they?”

“Rem...” Emile trailed off. “You didn’t change. They tried to change you and you resisted, and you put up walls and fronts around yourself to get their approval, but you were always a kind, caring person at heart.  _ That’s _ you. And they...they aren’t.”

Remy scowled at him.

Emile shook his head. “I’m sorry, Rem. But I can’t...this is one thing I can’t sugarcoat even if I wanted to. You deserve to know that your parents were hurting you.  _ Are _ hurting you, even now.”

Remy crossed his arms. “So, what, I’m just supposed to go through life without parents? Without family? Without a safety net? Just free fall the second my mental health takes a dive and crash onto the pavement below?”

“No,” Emile said. “You can borrow my parents and family if you need. You have me, and Clara, and Theo, and Xavier, and  _ all _ of our mutual friends as a safety net. The second your mental health takes a dive we’ll be there to support you in any way we’re able to.”

Remy kept his arms crossed, eyes growing glassy with tears. “But what if I don’t want you? What if I don’t want them? What if...what if all I really want is my parents there for me? My mother supporting my decisions, and my father praising my hard work?! What if I want  _ that?!” _

The last word was shouted at max volume, and Emile could hear his dad rushing up the steps. Emile swallowed. “Well, Rem...you can’t always get what you want.”

Remy’s face darkened and he bellowed, “Screw you!” just as Emile’s dad rushed in. “You don’t get to tell me who I can and can’t go to for help! Maybe I  _ want _ to reconcile with my parents! Maybe  _ you’re _ the one being controlling and demanding!  _ You’re _ the one who’s hurting me, not them!”

“Okay, okay, break it up!” Dad yelled, stepping between them. “Remy, why don’t you go downstairs? I’m sure my wife can help you with whatever you might need at the moment. She has a much gentler touch,” the last part was said with a pointed glance at Emile. “It’s my turn to talk to Emile, now, for a minute.”

The look Emile was getting spoke volumes. He was in massive trouble. Remy huffed and left the room, and Emile braced himself for perhaps the sternest talking-to he would ever have in his life as his stomach sank.


	33. Chapter 33

####  **December 12th, 1987**

Remy’s mother shrieked as she came over and pulled Remy away from the boy he had been playing with not five minutes earlier. “Mom?!” Remy asked.

“You can’t do that, Remy!” his mother said, clearly outraged. “You can  _ not _ kiss any boy, ever!”

“But I like him, Mom! And the TV shows say you kiss people you like!” Remy protested.

“Remington, if you kiss boys you’re going to go to Hell!” his mother hissed at him.

“What?!” Remy asked in clear alarm. “Why?!”

“Because being  _ gay _ is a  _ sin! _ And no son of mine is going to grow up and be gay!” his mother snapped at him.

####  **May 26th, 2001**

Remy didn’t feel at all bad leaving Emile’s bedroom...for all of twenty seconds. By the time he got down the stairs to the first floor, he realized that Emile might be getting yelled at in a matter of moments, and that thought didn’t sit well with him. But it was too late to go back up, as Emile’s mom had already come over to him and insisted he come with her and take a seat in the living room. “I’m not going to convince you whatever my son did wasn’t wrong,” she told Remy. “But I will tell you that he means well. That doesn’t  _ excuse _ his behavior, but it’s why he did it.”

Swallowing, Remy nodded. “I don’t like...he said that my parents are bad. That they’re scum. I don’t like it. They...they kept a roof over my head, and gave me food and water and made sure I had friends. They just want to look out for me.”

Emile’s mom nodded. “I don’t know the full story, dear, and I doubt Emile does either. He’s letting snap judgements dictate his decisions.”

“M-maybe...maybe I should call them,” Remy said. “Maybe...if-if I could get an apology for what happened in April, then maybe Emile would...would feel better about the whole thing. My mom didn’t mean to come across the way she did, she was just stressed.”

Emile’s mom wasn’t betraying a single emotion or thought she might be having. “Do you want to use our phone?” she asked.

“It would be a long distance call...I don’t want to add to your phone bill,” Remy said, pulling out his cell phone. “I can call from my own phone.”

“Remy, you wouldn’t be adding to our phone bill. And besides, if Emile has a point, wouldn’t it be safer to call from our phone?” Emile’s mom pointed out.

“I mean...if you’re sure it wouldn’t add too much to your phone bill...” Remy mumbled, trailing off.

“I regularly call people out of state, sweetheart, one more call is nothing,” Emile’s mom said.

“I...okay,” Remy agreed.

Emile’s mom showed him to the phone and he picked it up, dialling the familiar number that had given him so much anxiety in the past, and, despite still giving him massive anxiety, may have been his only hope now. It rang, and rang, and rang, and then his mother picked up with a fake-sweet-sounding, “Hello?”

“Uh...hey, Mom...” Remy said, voice a second away from giving out.

“Remy?” his mother sounded genuinely surprised.

“Uh, yeah...hi. Um...I just wanted to talk about what happened in April...I’m sorry,” Remy scratched the back of his neck. He had overreacted a bit, probably, with the whole “bite me” thing, so an apology was in order.

“Oh, sweetheart, it’s okay, I know you didn’t mean it,” his mother said.

Heat traveled down Remy’s spine, whether from relief or shame he wasn’t sure. “Thanks...um. My...my friend and I kind of had a fight today, and I had a point to prove, so I wanted to make sure there were no hard feelings between us?”

Emile’s mom gave him a look, a cross between confusion and concern. Remy just focused on the other end of the line, waiting with bated breath during a pregnant pause. “Of course there’s no hard feelings, sweetie, but you know your father and I know what’s best for you, right? You can’t be a barista for the rest of your life.”

“Yeah...yeah, I know. I’m working towards getting a different job,” Remy lied. He didn’t know of any openings in the area, and he could still pay his half of the rent well enough.

“Your father and I were talking, sweetheart, and we both agreed that you might need a little more structure in your life than we were able to provide.” A pause. Remy’s heart felt like it stopped beating. “If you want to do what’s best for you, we think joining the military would help so much.”

“And...and if I did that...would we...would we be good? You’d be...proud of me?” Remy’s voice was impossibly small.

“Honey, we’d be proud to the bursting,” his mother told him. Remy wanted to sob. He so  _ desperately _ wanted to believe that was true. “Where are you? I didn’t expect to hear you call, and if you had a fight with your friend...?”

“I’m...um...I’m travelling with him during Memorial Day weekend. We both had work off and I thought there was no harm in it, but clearly, he had some opinions I didn’t know about...”

“Do you want to come home, sweetie?” his mother asked.

Remy’s heart was pounding in his chest. Honestly, he didn’t exactly want to go back to them, but he couldn’t stand the thought of going back to his and Emile’s apartment and living in silence for however long they stayed together, at least until the end of the semester, possibly longer. “...Yeah, a little,” Remy mumbled.

“Where can I pick you up, darling? Where are you?” his mother asked.

“Uh...I don’t know where we are specifically. If I gave you a city we could meet up there?” Remy asked.

There was a pregnant pause again on the other line. “Remington, you’re not lying to me, are you?”

“No, Mom, no. I’m not lying to you,” Remy said. He could feel himself getting choked up. “I made...I made a mistake. I just...I want to go home. I wanna see Toby again. And Vanessa. And I want you and Dad to be proud of me.”

Emile’s mom was looking him over in worry. Remy tried to ignore her stare. “...How about we meet up at that little pancake place you liked on our way to the beach?” his mother offered.

Remy did some mental math. That was about an hour away. He cringed inwardly. Emile wouldn’t drive him, but maybe Emile’s mom would? He would give her gas money. “I could probably be there in about an hour with good traffic,” Remy said.

“Then I’ll see you there, sweetheart. I’m so glad you’re seeing sense. I love you so much,” his mother said.

Remy tried to not sob at that. “I love you too, Mom.”

When the line went dead, Remy put the phone back. “I have gas money, if you’re willing to drive me—”

“—Remy, if this is what you want, I’ll take you there for free. Where are you meeting up?” Emile’s mom asked.

“Uh, this little pancake place that my family would go to on the way to the beach. It’s about an hour away, and I really don’t mind paying gas money—”

“—You will not be paying me gas money, Remy,” Emile’s mom said sternly. “If you need this, you shouldn’t have to pay.”

Remy nodded. “Okay. Uh, my stuff is still in Emile’s room...”

“I’ll grab it,” Emile’s mom assured him. She smiled sadly. “I’m really sorry that you couldn’t stay with us longer.”

“Me too,” Remy breathed.

The next hour or so passed in a blur. Emile’s mom got his stuff, they got in her car, and Remy gave her directions to the pancake place. He was crying, just a little, but Emile’s mom didn’t mention it. He appreciated that.

They got to the pancake place in a little under an hour and he told Emile’s mom, “It took about an hour from our house to get here, too. She should be here any time.”

Emile’s mom gave his arm a pat. “It’s all right, dear, you don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

A car pulled into the parking lot behind them and Remy’s heart leapt into his throat when Emile jumped out of the driver’s side, stalking over.  _ Oh, no. _ “Remy! What the hell?!”

“Emile, language!” Emile’s mom chastised.

Emile ignored her and stared at Remy. “What, I’m too despicable for you so you go running back to the parents who treated you like  _ crap?! _ Is that what’s going on here?!”

Remy crossed his arms. “At least I  _ know _ what’s coming to me when it comes from my parents!” he snapped.

Emile’s dad walked over and put a hand on Emile’s arm. “Emile, you need to let Remy make his own choice. You can argue your case until you turn blue, but at the end of the day, it’s Remy’s decision.”

“Yeah? Well, there may be a million decisions he could make in this situation, but this is the  _ wrong _ one!” Emile exclaimed, removing his dad’s hand.

“Emile, don’t mess up your relationship with your parents just because of me,” Remy said. “I’m doing this, and you can’t change my mind.”

“Remy...Remy...they’re gonna  _ kill you!” _ Emile exclaimed. “I can’t let you do that to yourself!”

“You’re not in control of  _ my life, _ Emile!” Remy snapped. “You’re just as bad as you claim they are!”

Emile turned ash white and stood there, staring at Remy. “Is that...really...how you see me?”

Before Remy could respond in any way other than shying away from Emile, a familiar sedan pulled up and his mother got out, walking over with an aura of smugness around her. “Sweetheart, thank goodness you’re okay,” she said, coming over and hugging Remy.

Remy involuntarily stiffened and color returned to Emile’s face as he growled. His mother pulled away and looked around them. “Remington, are you going to introduce me to these people?”

“My ride,” Remy said, nodding to Emile’s mom. “My friend,” he pointed to Emile.

His mother’s face darkened. “I remember you from the police station,” she spat at Emile. “What did you do to my son?!”

“What did I do?!” Emile scoffed. “I helped save his heart before it shrivelled up and  _ died _ from your treatment of him over the years.”

“Emile,” Emile’s dad warned as Remy’s mother gasped in offence.

“How dare you?!” Remy’s mother shrieked.  _ “You’re _ the one who stole him from me, and put those silly ideas about quitting college in his head!”

“That was actually my idea,” Remy said quietly. “Emile gave me the means to do it.”

His mother held up a hand, and Remy fell silent. He really didn’t want this confrontation to happen, he had hoped that maybe Emile wouldn’t catch on to what was happening until Remy was already gone. She stalked over to Emile, who stood his ground and stared down at her with distaste. “You’re the one who convinced my son that I don’t care about him anymore,” she snarled.

“No, you did that yourself, with your blatant disregard for his feelings,” Emile said brightly. “I’m the one who was trying to help him figure out who he was beyond your idiotic plans for him.”

“Emile!” Emile’s dad hissed.

“If I’m going down as the enemy in Remy’s books, I’m going down in flames!” Emile snapped. “Because maybe, one day, he’ll understand why I care for him the way I do!”

Remy’s mother sneered, and Remy gulped. Oh, no.  _ That _ was where this was going. “Are you  _ gay?!” _ she asked with a sneer.

“Bisexual,” Emile corrected. “And currently in love with your son, yeah, before you ask. Not that it’s like he ever reciprocated or anything, but he was still kind enough to be my friend!”

“Well, not anymore,” Remy’s mother said. “I don’t want any child of mine associating with queers.”

Remy flinched as both of Emile’s parents spoke up in outrage. The voices were overlapping and distorting, and he recognized the beginnings of a panic attack. He was focusing on his breathing, as best as he could, but it didn’t seem to be working very well. He was shaking and crying and even as Emile’s dad and Remy’s mom fought, Emile’s mom was guiding him to sit down, and asking him if he was all right. Remy buried his head in his hands before his hands came up to tug on his hair and he bit back a sob.  _ No one wants to be friends with a crybaby, _ his mind helpfully taunted.

“See what you did?! You gave your own son a  _ panic attack!” _ Emile bellowed.

“Well it’s a small price to pay in comparison to what he  _ would _ be getting if he continued to be around people like you and wound up in Hell!” Remy’s mother snapped.

Remy felt a hand on his back and he jumped, looking up to see his mother. “Come on, sweetheart, I’m taking you home.”


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My vacation's over, seeing as how I'm posting this from the airport on the way home. Thank you all for your continued support of the story!

####  **July 4th, 1998**

Emile watched the scene unfold in front of him in slow motion. Faith had told one of the bullies that she wasn’t going to take anything else they wanted to dish out, and the guy pushed her backwards. She stumbled back a step, but rushed forward, pushing back just as hard, and the bully staggered backwards two steps. He turned red, bringing his fist back to swing.

Faith reacted quickly, bringing her shin up to the guy’s crotch. Emile couldn’t even step in to try and break it up, he was in so much shock. He felt so utterly powerless. Not only to help, but to stop the fight from happening in the first place.

####  **May 26th, 2001**

Emile felt completely powerless. There he was, five feet away from his boyfriend who was in the middle of a panic attack, and Remy’s mother, the bitch, was trying to get Remy to come with her. Emile wanted to move forward, to comfort Remy, to change his mind, but his feet felt glued to the asphalt he was standing on. He felt like he might cry, or like his heart might shatter and he would never recover.

Remy was looking at his mom with a mix of fear and hope, like she could somehow save him or wave away all his trauma. The blood roared in Emile’s ears as slowly Remy stood on shaky legs, and hugged his mother. She walked over to Emile, and Emile just stood there, looking her over. She frowned at him. “I need to get Remington’s things,” she informed him.

“And clearly I need to get off this bad acid trip,” Emile said. “Because I’ve never known Remy to hug people he’s afraid of before. Ever.”

“Remy isn’t afraid of me,” Remy’s mother scoffed. “If anything, he’s learning where he fits in the family. It took him long enough, but he’s coming around.”

It was Emile’s turn to scoff. “Right. Because he would clearly tell you how he feels about you if it was anything remotely negative. Of course. There would be  _ no _ backlash for that, I’m sure.”

“Of course not, I encourage  _ all _ my kids to be honest with me,” Remy’s mother said.

“Bullshit,” Emile growled. “I bet the second they come to you with a problem you either make it  _ their _ fault for not doing what you wanted them to do, or you guilt trip them into taking whatever they said back. Remy, how close am I?”

Remy was shaking and glaring at Emile. “Let it go, Emile,” Remy warned.

“You know me, Rem. I never let anything go until I feel like it’s been fixed. And this is not a solution. At best, it’s a band-aid over a bullet wound,” Emile said.

Remy’s mother tried to forcibly move Emile to the side, but Emile just stood in place, a smile slowly growing on his face. “You’re not getting Remy’s things, not if I have a say in it,” Emile said.

“You don’t have a say in it,” Remy’s mother snarled.

“Don’t I?” Emile asked.

“You don’t,” Remy said, voice sharp and angry. “Let it go, Emile. Let  _ me _ go.”

“No,” Emile said. “Even if you leave with your mother, I will never stop thinking about you. I’ll never stop trying to write, to find you, to show you that I love you. I love you more than anything else in the world, Rem. And whether or not we’re just friends, or something more, we’ll always have a certain connection between us. And I, for one, am not willing to give that up.”

Remy’s mother sneered at him. “You’re going to burn in Hell,” she informed him.

“Hell will be fabulous, covered in glitter, and I’ll have any guy I could possibly want,” Emile replied without missing a beat. “Although, considering I’m Catholic, you know, I might  _ actually _ be going to Heaven. I don’t think just being gay will land you in Hell. Purgatory, maybe. Maybe I’ll spend a little longer in Purgatory than I would have otherwise, but you know what? That’s completely worth it.”

“Emile,” Remy said. “Please, stop.”

“Why should I?” Emile challenged.

“Because I asked you to,” Remy said. “I’m not comfortable in this situation. I’m calling it.”

Remy’s mother turned to Remy. “Since when do you talk about your feelings?” she asked. “That sort of thing is completely unnecessary.”

“Wow, I see where he gets that from,” Emile muttered.

“What?” Remy’s mother asked, turning back to Emile. “What is that supposed to mean?!”

“Oh, nothing, nothing,” Emile said with a wave of his hand. “After all, I’ll respect Remy’s decision to not want to talk about it.”

“You’ll tell me what that meant, right now!” Remy’s mother demanded.

An idea formed in Emile’s mind and he widened his eyes with false innocence. “But ma’am, if I did that, I’d be considering  _ you _ more important than  _ Remy.” _

“Remington answers to  _ me,” _ Remy’s mother spat. “He listens to what I and his father have to say, and he can make his own choices once he’s listened to what  _ we _ want him to do. He’s free to do whatever he wants, so long as it’s within our plans for him.”

“And  _ there _ it is,” Emile said, feeling completely vindicated. “Remy is a second-class citizen in your eyes. You come first, and he comes second. Maybe third, or fourth, depending on what his siblings say, isn’t that right?”

“Children are to  _ listen to _ their parents,” Remy’s mother growled.

“Yeah, when they’re  _ twelve,” _ Emile said. “Remy is, to use his own words, a ‘grown-ass man.’ He’s old enough to make his own choices about his life, and you’re stripping that right from him. Children have to listen to their parents when they are still children, because their parents generally keep them from doing something  _ stupid _ that would hurt the kids. But once that child is eighteen, they’re a legal adult, and they’re allowed—no, they’re  _ encouraged _ to make their own decisions. If Remy makes the choice to go back to you, that’s his choice. But if you strip him of his ability to make his own choices, then  _ you _ are the one in the wrong.”

“And yet you were trying to take away  _ my _ choice earlier by saying I couldn’t go back to my mom and dad,” Remy said. “You’re a hypocrite.”

“Yeah? Well, at least I’ll admit to my mistakes, unlike  _ someone _ in this parking lot,” Emile said, glowering at Remy’s mother.

“When did you admit you were wrong?” Remy scoffed.

Emile looked at Remy. “Every time I’ve yelled, or moved too fast, or made a sudden noise that scared you. When I tried to figure out the logistics of getting a giant sofa into the apartment and you informed me it would never fit through the door.”

“But not when it comes to my family,” Remy said. “You never say you’re wrong when it comes to my family.”

“I’m...not wrong when it comes to your family,” Emile said.

Remy made an offended noise. “You’re not even open to constructive criticism when it comes to your opinions on...virtually anything. Especially cartoons and my family, though.”

“Well, you hardly give evidence to support your claim that your family isn’t as bad as you claim, and you just get mean when you insult cartoons,” Emile said, crossing his arms. “And no, providing you with food and shelter doesn’t mean that your parents were good. That’s a  _ requirement _ of being a parent. Not something  _ optional _ you get when you behave, or because your parents feel ‘generous.’”

Remy’s mother snarled, “Move out of the way so I can get my son’s things and we can leave!”

Emile stared down his nose at Remy’s mother. “Ma’am, I say this with as much respect as I can muster, but go to Hell.”

“Emile!” Mom snapped at him. “You can’t say that to  _ anyone!” _

“Well, what am I supposed to say?!” Emile asked. “Should I give her a customer service smile and let her  _ hurt Remy?!” _

“Once again, you’re hurting me more than she ever has!” Remy exclaimed.

Remy’s mother turned, shocked, to Remy. “You don’t genuinely believe I’ve hurt you?”

“Wha—no! That’s the point!” Remy said, but Emile could see Remy’s tells, and he was  _ definitely _ lying. And his surprise meant that he wasn’t doing it as well as he usually did. “You haven’t hurt me at all, and he’s hurt me plenty of times!”

“You  _ know _ I can tell when you’re lying, Remington?” Remy’s mother said. “You’ve always had the exact same face when you lie, from back when you were four years old to now.”

“Okay, so maybe you’ve made me feel bad once or twice, but—”

“When?!” his mother asked. “When have I hurt you?!”

Remy looked like a deer in headlights. “At the coffee shop?” he said. “You scared me out of my wits. And at Thanksgiving, trying to get me to change my major—”

His mother cut him off again. “I was  _ helping _ you!”

“No, mom. You weren’t,” Remy said, before clapping a hand over his mouth.

His mother was eerily still, and Emile knew that whatever happened next was going to get ugly. “Oh, I see,” she said. “I’m the villain, here. After all these years, you’re still ungrateful for  _ everything _ I’ve done for you. I made sure you were happy, and that you would fit in with others your age! All those times you were upset when I might take some childish thing away from you, it only took you the next day to recover and it was like nothing ever happened! Do you want to be like your ‘friend’ here and be stuck in the past, watching children’s shows for the rest of your life? I was so relieved when you outgrew your comics phase. You would never have had friends if you had kept that up.”

Emile was ready to strangle Remy’s mother. Not even over insulting his love of cartoons, but for her blatant disregard of Remy’s feelings. It was completely unfair and cruel. Remy removed his hand from his mouth, but his eyes were glassy.

His mother scoffed. “Crocodile tears don’t work on me, Remington, and besides, no one likes a crybaby. They’ll train that out of you in the military.”

Remy was shaking all over, and he muttered, “So that’s where I am. A rock and a hard place. Fantastic.”

“Why are you even entertaining these people?” his mother asked. “We can get you new clothes, you don’t need anything in that suitcase of yours, anyway. Let’s go.”

Remy didn’t move.

“Remington,” his mother prompted. “We’re leaving.”

“I thought...” Remy cleared his throat. “I thought you said you’d be proud of me. Well, I’m doing what you wanted. Why are you still treating me the same as always?”

His mother scoffed. “You don’t get special treatment over your brother or sister. This is the way your father and I treat them, and so it’s how we treat you. Just because you make us proud doesn’t mean your place in this family moves.”

Remy blinked repeatedly. “But...but you always treated me like I was a problem child. If I listen to you, I’m not a problem anymore. I get my own spot at the table when we make decisions.”

“Remy, you clearly don’t know what’s best for you on your own. I’m glad you came to your senses and decided to listen to me, but you can’t be trusted to know what’s best for you. Toby and Vanessa barely know what’s best for themselves, after all these years. They get their opinions considered, but you have to work a while before you get to that point,” his mother explained.

Emile stayed silent, and didn’t move, even though he wanted nothing more than to kill Remy’s mom then and there. Remy was staring at her with hurt, and shock, and betrayal. “Even if you’re proud of me...you get the final say in my life? That’s what you’re saying?”

“Yes, you’re finally beginning to understand!” Remy’s mother exclaimed.

Remy looked down, before looking back up, saying, “No, Mom, I  _ don’t _ understand. I don’t understand why you get the final say in  _ my _ life.”

“Because I know you best!” his mother exclaimed.

Remy laughed. “Mom, you don’t even know that I can  _ cook. _ You set me in front of the stove and said I was old enough to make my own food, and I found I had a knack for making meals, but you never once thought to ask how it was going. If you ever saw me eating something I made you accused me of ordering take-out, because there was no way I’d be able to make something like that, of  _ course. _ You don’t know me. At all, I’d say. Why should you get to control my life when you don’t even know me?”

“Remington, don’t you  _ dare _ backtalk,” his mother said.

Remy bit his tongue, pulling a face. “Yeah. No,” he said. “Misses Thomas, I’m sorry for having you drive me all the way out here. Clearly, this was a mistake.”

Emile’s heart soared with hope. “Does this mean you’re staying with us?”

“It means we’ll be having a very. Long. Talk,” Remy warned. “But if I’m not going to be respected at home, then I’m not  _ going _ home. Sorry, Mom.”


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a happy Thanksgiving, if you celebrate, and if not, have a wonderful Thursday!

####  **December 16th, 2000**

When Remy walked out of his bedroom, he was immediately met by an almost-shriek from Emile. Remy winced at the loud noise and rubbed his head. “Was that really necessary, Emile?” he grumbled.

“Remy, you’ve been asleep nearly twenty four hours!” Emile exclaimed. “I was worried I’d have to call for an ambulance to take you to the hospital!”

“Oh,” Remy said, stretching. “No, this is normal. It happens when I get super stressed. My body finally thinks it can relax and I’m out cold for at least twelve hours.”

Emile blinked. “That’s terrifying.”

Remy shrugged with a laugh. “Relax, Emile. Everything’s good. It means I’m calm, cool, and collected.”

“Oh,” Emile said. “That’s good, then. Doesn’t mean you didn’t scare me when you shuffled out like a zombie.”

Remy laughed.

####  **May 27th, 2001**

Remy woke up to the feeling of someone playing with his hair. He frowned and stretched, feeling around where he was, only to find that wherever it was, it definitely wasn’t his bed. There was a laugh from above him. “Morning, sleepyhead.”

Blinking owlishly, Remy looked up to find Emile staring down at him with a soft smile. “Mm. Wha’time ‘sit?” Remy mumbled.

“Nine in the morning,” Emile informed him. “The day after you passed out in my mom’s car.”

“Oh,” Remy said. “Did I scare her?”

“Only a little,” Emile said with a laugh. “And she calmed down marginally after I explained to her that this happens with you sometimes after you get really stressed.”

“Why was I in your mom’s...” Remy’s question trailed off as he remembered yesterday’s events. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Emile said, blowing out a breath. “Not our finest moments, either of us.”

Remy sat up and rubbed his head. “Yeah...” he looked around to find himself in Emile’s old room at his parents’ place. “I’m kinda surprised my mom didn’t just grab me and forcibly haul me off with her.”

“Yeah, it’s a good thing my dad still plays sports and stays in shape, because otherwise she might have. Fortunately, he had enough muscle to successfully say, ‘I’ll fight you for him,’ and scare her into backing off,” Emile laughed.

“Would he have actually fought her over me?” Remy asked.

“Oh, yeah,” Emile confirmed. “Once you made it clear you didn’t want to be with your parents anymore, he was ready to fight tooth and nail for you to stay with us.”

“Why?” Remy asked. “Why me?”

“Because you’re super important, Remy. You’re like...practically my entire world,” Emile said.

Remy sighed and looked at Emile. “You have a funny way of showing that,” he said. “What with your constantly making me feel uncomfortable with comments about my family.”

Emile looked like he wanted to say,  _ Am I wrong? _ but he didn’t add anything, just looked expectantly at Remy.

“Look, I doubt you’re wrong about them. Based on what my mom told me yesterday, I’m more inclined to believe you than her. But...the thing about that is that it hurts enough hearing it from her. You’re...you’re like...my safe space. The place where I’m allowed to be me. To be happy, or angry, or hurt. To hear that coming from you...when I’m expecting to feel safe around you...it doesn’t work. You make me feel safe. My family doesn’t. And when you bring my family into where I’m trying to feel safe...”

“It makes you feel uneasy at best, and unsafe at worst?” Emile filled in. “Sh—”

“—Language,” Remy teased. “You don’t want your mom coming up here and telling you to watch your language in the middle of a tender moment, do you?”

Emile sighed. “I’m really sorry, Remy.”

Remy shrugged. “You didn’t exactly  _ know _ this before.”

“Because I refused to listen to you when you tried to explain,” Emile said.

Remy sighed, “Okay, true.” He paused. “But we’re good? Like, you’re not going to rant about my family more now, are you?”

“Not to you, or when you can hear,” Emile said. “I can’t guarantee that I won’t ever get mad if something with them gets brought up, but I’ll make sure to watch my tongue when you’re around. I can vent about it to my parents if I really need to, because they understand the situation now.”

“Then we’re good on my end,” Remy said. “Are you...mad at me? For trying to run back to my parents?”

“No,” Emile said. “I’m mad at myself for making you feel like that was your only choice, but I’m not mad at you.”

Remy climbed onto Emile’s lap, and hugged him tightly. “I love you,” he breathed. “Even when you scare me sometimes, I love you.”

“I love you too,” Emile murmured back, hugging Remy just as tight. “And I’m so sorry I ever made you feel unsafe.”

The bedroom door creaked open as Misses Thomas’ voice floated in. “Emile, is he—oh!”

Remy removed his head from Emile’s shoulder. “Just a hug, Misses Thomas, nothing untoward. We’ve worked it out.”

“Oh, good,” Misses Thomas said. “In that case, breakfast is ready for you both.”

She left the room and Remy climbed off Emile’s lap. “What would have happened if anything untoward was going on?” he asked in a hushed whisper.

“She would have told us matter-of-factly to lock the door next time, and make sure that Dad and her couldn’t hear us,” Emile replied easily. “And maybe would have teased us relentlessly for the rest of the weekend.”

“That’s it?” Remy asked.

“That’s it. What, were you expecting more...?”

“Fire and brimstone?” Remy asked. “Not in the ‘you’re going to Hell’ sorta way but in the ‘you’re having sex under my roof?!’ kinda way.”

“Rem, you’re nineteen, I’m twenty, it’s perfectly normal for anyone our age to be sexually active. My mom isn’t going to insist that we stop just because we’re in her and my dad’s house. She just doesn’t want to  _ hear _ if anything’s going on, because who in their right mind would want to hear their family members getting it on?”

Remy nearly choked on thin air. “Was that last part  _ really _ necessary, Emile?!”

“Maybe not, but it’s occasionally fun to catch you off-guard,” Emile lightly teased.

Remy shoved Emile as they walked out of the room and Emile stuck his tongue out at Remy with a smug grin. “I oughta teach you a lesson,” Remy grumbled.

“Good luck with that,” Emile said, sticking his tongue out at Remy again.

The second they were down the stairs, Remy french-dipped Emile and kissed him for a solid five seconds. When he came up for air, Emile was still in his arms, staring at Remy with wide eyes. Remy righted Emile and then sniffed the air. “Is that French toast I smell?” he asked, walking to the kitchen.

“Remy Picani, you don’t just get to dip me into a kiss and walk away like nothing happened!” Emile exclaimed indignantly.

Emile’s parents were laughing and Remy was grinning as Emile dashed over and gave Remy’s shoulders a firm tug, either trying to climb onto Remy’s back or else turn him around to face Emile, but he was unsuccessful in both endeavors. Remy turned his head to look at Emile, and Emile promptly kissed him on the nose. Remy short-circuited for a solid thirty seconds before he exclaimed, “Hey! Nose kisses are illegal! We agreed!”

“So is french-dipping!” Emile retorted.

“Mm, french-dipping was not in the rules whatsoever, and therefore free game,” Remy said with a careless shrug.

Emile huffed and crossed his arms. “You know what else isn’t in the rules?”

“What?” Remy challenged.

Emile’s fingers darted out and began tickling Remy’s sides, causing him to nearly  _ shriek _ and burst out laughing. “Emile! No! Stop!”

Remy’s legs were shaking as Emile’s fingers retreated, and Remy mumbled, “I might pass out again.”

“Oh no! Are you okay?!” Emile asked, helping him stand.

“Don’t have the energy for tickle fights, Emile,” Remy breathed.

“Let’s get some food in you and then see what happens,” Emile said.

Remy hummed his agreement. “Seriously, is that French toast?” he asked.

“It is,” Emile’s dad said. “And for once Emile’s mother was in the kitchen and didn’t burn the entire place down!”

Emile’s mom kissed Emile’s dad and said, “You’re still never getting access to my garden again.”

“It was  _ one time _ that I overwatered the tulips!” Emile’s dad protested.

“Yeah, and they started to rot and nearly ruined the whole garden, Dad,” Emile pointed out. Remy snickered.

“Okay,  _ you _ hardly have a green thumb either, mister!” Emile’s dad accused.

“At least I admit it and don’t kill perfectly healthy plants because of it,” Emile said.

Remy watched the exchange with amusement, and he was somewhat surprised. He wasn’t even that uneasy about the playful arguing. He didn’t expect it to devolve into actual arguing or a genuine fight. Since when was that assumption no longer there? He thought, especially after his mother, he would be more on edge than this. Was it that Emile was here? His safety net was nearby? But Emile was part of the play-fight, which would have Remy on edge most of the time. He never wanted Emile  _ actually _ getting mad. Something about where he was, or who he was with, just made him feel safe. Interesting.

Emile’s mom waved Remy over to her and said, “While our boys are debating, we get our pick of the food.”

Remy laughed at her conspiratory wink and they took french toast and began to decorate it with whatever toppings they chose. Emile and his dad were still going by the time Emile’s mom and Remy took a seat at the table. “I’m still willing to pay you gas money after yesterday’s...uh...failed reunion,” Remy said.

Emile’s mom sighed. “Remy, I’m not expecting gas money from you over that trip. It was something you needed. You needed to hear your mother wasn’t changing her mind. Save your money for a rainy day when you might actually need it. When you might need to pay someone else gas money for a less serious endeavor.”

Remy poked at a blueberry on his french toast and frowned. “That’s awfully generous of you, Misses Thomas. I don’t really know what to say.”

“Say you agree and leave it at that,” Emile’s mom advised. “There doesn’t need to be some huge declaration of gratitude on your end. The fact that you’re willing to pay me gas money tells me enough about your gratitude.”

“You’re sure?” Remy asked hesitantly.

“As sure as I’ve ever been on anything,” Emile’s mom said with a smile.

Remy smiled back and they went back to eating, before Emile and his dad walked in with plates of their own. “You didn’t even wait for us?” Emile’s dad asked.

“You two sounded like you might be talking for a while. And Remy missed dinner last night. I wanted to make sure he had some food in him,” Emile’s mom said.

“All right, you get a pass on that one,” Emile’s dad said.

Emile snorted as he sat down next to Remy. “Dad, Mom  _ always _ gets a pass from you. Because we both know what happens when you try and push back, playfully or not. Mom always comes out on top. That’s just the facts.”

Remy smirked. “I see who’s in charge here,” he said.

Emile snickered. “Eh, they both have expertise in different areas, so they compromise a lot more than it sounds like. But if you were to ask who wore the pants in the relationship, with no other specifications, usually the answer would be Mom.”

“Yeah?” Remy asked. “Do you think we have that in  _ our _ relationship?”

Emile shrugged. “Not really. At least, not yet. I might let you be in charge of cooking, if that’s what you want, and usually I’m in charge of budgeting whatever money we have after we pay the bills and rent, but I think we’re pretty evenly balanced in most areas of life. And we always come to an agreement before one of us does something for the other. It’s a balance.”

“So does that mean both of us wear the pants in this relationship, or are we both pants-less?” Remy asked.

Emile rolled his eyes. “I really hate you sometimes, I hope you know that. I did not need a visual of you without pants this early in the morning.”

“So, there  _ is _ a time you’d like a visual of me without pants?” Remy asked, smirking.

“Not what I meant, and you know it!” Emile said, pointing at Remy.

Remy snickered and went back to eating his food, grinning smugly.

Emile grumbled but went back to eating as well. Remy inwardly smiled. Everything was right with the world again. He and Emile were okay, and they were having breakfast with Emile’s parents. It was quiet, it was calm, it was domestic. And he had to admit, he loved it. Like, a lot. Way more than he had ever expected to.


	36. Chapter 36

####  **June 23rd, 1998**

“Hey, kid!” a protester yelled rather loudly as Emile was walking by.

Emile paused and turned to the guy. “Can I help you, sir?” he asked.

“You’re too young to be throwing away your life like this! You’re condemning yourself and you can’t be more than what, eighteen?”

“I’m seventeen, and Catholic, and pretty sure I’m going to Heaven no matter what you say,” Emile said.

The man sneered and Emile felt his stomach sink. There were others joining the man, all seeming ready to argue with him. Someone grabbed his arm and he looked over. Faith was guiding him away by the elbow. “C’mon, Emile, those types don’t even deserve the time of day.”

Emile turned to look back at the man, who was glaring at him until some other poor person walked up and he resumed his shouting at them. He winced. “Are there always people like that?” he asked.

“Not by the entrance, usually,” Faith said. “But yeah. One day, though, they’ll be the minority of the situation.”

####  **June 1st, 2001**

Emile was doing the dishes in their apartment with a small smile on his face. Ever since they had gotten back from Emile’s parents, Remy had been acting a lot more animated: getting excited about cooking, going off on tangents about how nice Emile’s parents were, them introducing him to badminton properly, Emile’s mom’s garden and how she grew a few ingredients to use in recipes (and asking if they could translate that to the apartment because  _ then we wouldn’t have to pay for groceries as much, Emile! _ which Emile was still skeptical about).

It was a Friday, but Emile was officially out of school for the summer, which was very exciting. He could spend more time with Remy because working part time meant they both had a couple times a week where they would have nowhere in particular to be. He paused in washing. It was Friday, but it was also the start of June. Pride month. Emile had been to a pride parade or two, but he doubted that Remy had. And if they were careful, they could go out to one to celebrate!

He grinned. Oh, he’d have to go to the library and get on one of the computers to see if he could find a good pride parade nearby. He definitely wanted to introduce Remy to the joy that was pride parades!

As the last of the dishes in their apartment were drying, Remy walked in with his signature “work was awful” sigh. Emile strode over and gave Remy a light hug. “Hello, my love,” he said. “Would you be willing to go with me to the public library today?”

“I mean, I guess,” Remy sighed. “I’m really tired, though. Would it take long?”

“That depends,” Emile said with a shrug. “I’m not sure how easily I could get access to whichever site the pride parade information might be on.”

“Pride...parade?” Remy asked.

“Yeah, I wanted to take you to one. I figured you’d never gone before, and it’s super fun, and you get to be yourself with no judgement,” Emile said.

Remy’s blank expression had Emile confused. “Emile...what’s a pride parade?” Remy asked.

Emile blinked. “Have you really never heard of a pride parade before?” he asked. “I assumed you would have never gone, but you never even  _ heard _ of it?”

Remy just continued to stare blankly at Emile.

Emile took a deep breath. “Okay, okay. The short version: a pride parade is where people who are gay or bi or trans or lesbian or  _ whatever _ can go and celebrate who they are without worrying about what other people will think. If we went to one in a nearby city but not here, it’s unlikely anyone you don’t want to know you’re gay would be there. And they’re super fun! They have all sorts of pretty pride flags, and sometimes they have free buttons or stickers, and you can of course buy some stuff, too, from certain vendors, once the literal parade is over but the celebration is still going on. It’s really cool and I’d love to take you.”

“Emile,” Remy held up a hand. “Information overload.”

Emile pressed his lips together but he was practically vibrating in anticipation. He  _ really _ wanted Remy to come with him. Remy did that blinking thing he sometimes did as he processed information, then looked at Emile. “And no one would fire us over going to this parade?”

“If we’re careful, no one will know we went to it, and no one who’s part of the parade would ever fire you for being gay,” Emile said with certainty.

“And...there’s like, no drinking or anything involved?”

“Not if you don’t have an ID,” Emile said. “Some vendors won’t sell to you at all until you’re twenty one.”

Remy hummed in thought.

“Would you...want to drink at pride? Rem? If you were able to?” Emile asked.

“I...don’t know. Alcohol is...clearly a depressant for me, and I don’t really want to be depressed at something you find fun,” Remy said with a shrug. “Honestly drinking is...kinda boring. Like, if I had some sort of food to go with it? Maybe. That could complement the food and make the meal taste even better. But drinking on its own is...eh. Not interesting. I’d only do it if I didn’t want to remember the night I drank.”

Emile relaxed at that. He knew that a drunk Remy had plenty of issues both with memories and in whatever situation the two of them found themselves in. If Remy decided he’d rather not drink, that was one less thing that Emile would have to worry about.

Remy frowned. “You’re relieved. Why are you relieved?”

Emile forgot that Remy could read him like an open book at the most inopportune times. “It doesn’t matter, Remy. Let’s just go to the library.”

“It matters to me,” Remy said stubbornly. “Why are you relieved?”

“Remy...” Emile sighed. “This is a conversation that is doomed to be really long and I really want to get to the library before it closes.”

Remy stood his ground, searching Emile’s eyes. Emile resisted the urge to squirm. “Why are you relieved?” Remy pressed.

“I’m relieved because you don’t want to drink,” Emile said.

Remy blinked. “Do you think I’m irresponsible around alcohol?” he asked, jutting his chin out in challenge.

“I think that considering both your past with your family and your identity you’re extremely likely to develop a drinking problem in order to self-medicate. That’s not healthy. Hearing that you don’t want to drink just because is a relief. Sure, hearing that you’d use it to forget a stressful night isn’t great, but you’re not going to become addicted to alcohol because of one bad bender,” Emile said.

“I’m perfectly healthy, Emile. Sure, my life wasn’t the easiest, but I wouldn’t resort to alcoholism.”

Emile ran a hand down his face. “This is why I didn’t want to get into this,” he muttered. He kissed the crown of Remy’s head. “I know you’re smart, honey. I know you know that alcohol isn’t an answer. But that doesn’t mean it can’t look tempting after a particularly bad day.”

Remy crossed his arms and Emile knew that Remy’s stubbornness was in full swing. “You’re dangerously close to controlling territory, Emile,” he growled.

“Controlling would be guilt-tripping you into not drinking. I’m just pointing out what I think about your statements. Not trying to guilt-trip anybody,” Emile placated.

Remy continued to snarl and Emile sighed. “Rem, I’m not your...I’m not your babysitter, I can’t tell you what you can and can’t do. I’m just trying to express my thoughts. It clearly came across wrong. For that, I apologize. But I would never intentionally want to guilt-trip you.”

“You were about to say you’re not my parents,” Remy growled.

“A habit I’m trying to kick,” Emile replied smoothly.

Remy ran his hands through his hair. “I don’t like it when you say that, Emile,” he warned.

“Which is why I’m trying to kick the habit. It won’t leave overnight,” Emile said.

“It should never have taken root in the first place,” Remy accused.

“You know what? You’re right,” Emile said. “It doesn’t do anything other than upset you and try to boost my ego. I shouldn’t have started saying it. But I did. So now the only thing I can do is try and stop it.”

Remy crossed his arms, scrutinizing Emile. Eventually, he sighed. “So, the library?”

“Yeah,” Emile agreed. “I can drive us over, or we could walk. It is a pretty nice day.”

“It’s a little hot to me,” Remy said.

Emile rolled his eyes. “Well, duh, you’re always wearing that leather jacket when you go out. You’re gonna overheat in that thing.”

“It’s a price I’m willing to pay for the aesthetic,” Remy said, face expressionless.

Emile sighed and walked out the door as Remy grinned and followed him. “You worry me, Rem. Like, a lot.”

“Aw, come on, the aesthetic is amazing! It makes me look cool,” Remy said.

“I would argue it makes you look hot, and not in the attractive sense,” Emile argued, even as he kissed Remy’s cheek. “Either learn to drink more water during the summer, or lose the jacket.”

“How much water would I have to drink, exactly?” Remy asked.

“At least eight cups,” Emile said.

Remy tilted his head back and groaned. “That’s so  _ many,” _ he complained.

“The price to pay for the aesthetic,” Emile teased.

Remy scowled before grabbing Emile’s shoulders and leaping on top of him. Emile squawked and nearly fell over right outside the apartment complex, where two of their more...conservative neighbors were currently walking in. Emile waved to them. “Hey, Grace, Roy! How are you?”

They didn’t reply to him, not that Emile minded. He was a little busy trying to get Remy off him. Remy was laughing maniacally as he had his legs wrapped around Emile’s torso. “Remy, Remy! Re—oof! Remy! Don’t kick there!” Emile protested.

“I wouldn’t have to kick you if you didn’t squirm so much!” Remy argued.

“I am not a jungle gym! Off! Now!” Emile shot back.

Remy sighed and put his legs down. “I didn’t hurt your back, did I?” Remy asked.

“My back? No. My kidneys? Give me three to five business days,” Emile drily replied.

Remy winced. “Sorry.”

Emile waved off his apology. “Let’s just get to the library, okay?”

They got in Emile’s car and drove over, Emile immediately heading to the queue for the computers. When he put his library card on the list, he waited for a computer to open while Remy went to look at books. As soon as he was allowed to get on a computer, he did, waving Remy over. They went online and Emile searched for local pride parades. “There’s this one we could go to, it’s two towns over,” Emile said softly.

“Two towns over still seems kinda close,” Remy murmured.

“Well, there might be protesters around but I don’t know any people out here who would go out of their way to drive over there to wave around a sign about going to Hell,” Emile said. “And we don’t want to go  _ too _ far away. It would be a one-day thing, it’s not like we have the money to rent a room at a hotel.”

“Okay, that’s a valid point,” Remy muttered. “Do we have to make reservations or anything? RSVP?”

“Nope, all we have to do is show up and not bring anything they don’t allow,” Emile said, grinning. “You’re gonna have a great time, Remy, I already know it.”

Remy shifted where he stood. “I guess I have to take your word on that, because I don’t have a reference point,” he said. “But I’m still not sure.”

Emile sighed and clicked around the site, making note of what the parade did and didn’t allow. “If you don’t want to go I understand,” Emile said. “But it would be way more fun with you, and I promise it’s safe.”

Remy chewed his lip. “I really want to believe you, Emile. It’s just...it’s hard. Not because of you, necessarily. It’s just hard in general.”

“Yeah,” Emile agreed. “I was super nervous my first Pride. A few protesters got close to me, tried to shout me out of going in. But my friends kept me moving, away from them, and I had the time of my life, getting to be myself, loud and out and proud of it for just a couple hours. And I couldn’t wait to go back to it the next year.”

“And you didn’t...?” Remy paused. “You don’t worry that the protesters are right?” He was hugging himself as he softly asked, “You know you won’t go to Hell for it?”

“Honey...” Emile chewed his lip, before standing and hugging Remy tightly. “They’re wrong, they’ve always been wrong and always will be wrong. It doesn’t matter who the protesters are, either. Catholic, Protestant, Muslim, Jewish, or just plain old homophobes without much inclination towards any religion. They aren’t in the right. You won’t go to Hell for loving me or any other man. Okay?”

“Okay,” Remy said softly.

“Okay,” Emile repeated. “Now, are you going to come with me to Pride?”

Remy smiled softly and nodded. “I’ll give it a shot.”


	37. Chapter 37

####  **June 6th, 1986**

Remy wasn’t entirely sure what his mother was glaring at the TV for. He was watching it play some boring news station or another, and there were a lot of people shouting, throwing things and picking fights, while rainbows and dozens of flags with different colors flew around in the background. His mother cursed under her breath, but Remy heard her.

Why was she so angry? Usually she didn’t get this mad, even if people were fighting. “They’re clearly wrong, why are they fighting against the truth?” his mother muttered.

Fight against the truth? Remy didn’t know what that was supposed to mean. What did rainbow flags and fighting have anything to do with truth?

####  **June 11th, 2001**

Remy’s first impression of Pride was that it was incredibly overwhelming. Remy’s second impression of Pride was that it was making Emile let loose, something Remy wasn’t sure was even possible until this point. Remy’s third impression of Pride was that it. Was.  _ Awesome. _ Like, completely off-the-chain awesome.

People were surrounding them on all sides, some with pride flags, others with pins and badges, and some dressed like they were just going out on the town for a day. But all of them were happy, and laughing, and joking, and Remy wasn’t sure he had ever encountered so much positive energy in one place before.

Emile was standing next to him, beaming. He was currently looking around, for what, Remy wasn’t sure. Remy just hung next to him, unsure of where to go. He definitely enjoyed this, but he was so completely out of his element.

“Come on, girl, anywhere you want to go first?” Emile asked with a grin.

Remy’s cheeks dusted pink as he shuffled on his feet. He was wearing more feminine clothing today, his reasoning being that no one at a pride parade would care about whether or not he dressed masculine. He could probably go full drag and no one would bat an eye. But still, Emile calling him “girl” did something to his emotions that he couldn’t describe. “I’ve never been to a pride parade before,” he said. “I don’t know what there is to go to.”

“Okay, fair enough,” Emile said with a grin. “Why don’t we just look around at some of the stalls?”

“Okay,” Remy said, following Emile over.

He was surprised by how much of a social butterfly Emile was being. He was waving and high-fiving anyone in the general vicinity, yelling, “Girl, same!” whenever someone showed off bisexual colors, and generally putting himself out there in a way that Remy had only done anonymously in clubs before. Here, he supposed things were a little anonymous too, but it was still in broad daylight, where people could see them.

Emile walked up to one of the stalls, chirping, “Hi!” to the people on the other side.

Remy looked at the banner on their table and saw it was something for Catholics who were LGBT, and Remy inwardly shook his head fondly, because Emile wasn’t the most devout, but he did occasionally go to Mass. Of course he’d like people who were affirming in his faith. Remy looked around the other stalls curiously as Emile talked. He wasn’t really religious himself; he had too many bad experiences with his family’s church growing up to really put any trust in a higher power. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t curious about which denominations might be accepting.

Emile took a little pamphlet from one of the people and came over to Remy. “See any churches you like?” he asked.

“Not really religious,” Remy shrugged. “Bad experiences.”

Emile winced. “Yeah, understandable. Should we move further in?”

“Yeah, let’s do that,” Remy agreed.

They walked down the street and Remy looked around. There were a few big name corporations advertising here, but not very many. There were stalls for small book companies, and...he paused. There was one for a queer comics startup! “Emile!” he exclaimed, eyes lighting up. “Comics!”

Emile laughed and followed Remy over to the stall as Remy looked at the different illustrations they had. So many cool superheroes, and then some more realistic-fiction looking stories, and some high fantasy and sci-fi was scattered in there too. “Woah,” he breathed.

“You like comics?” the woman behind the stall asked with a small smile.

“Like is an understatement,” Remy said, eyes never leaving the pictures. “Are you guys selling these?”

“These comics are purely for display,” the woman said. “But we are starting up subscriptions as we’re gaining traction. We’re in a couple comic stores around, where do you live?”

“Uh...” Remy blinked, forcing himself into the present. “Fairview.”

The woman nodded. “We’re in the comics store there, yeah. That’s about as far out as we’ve gotten, though.”

“Hey, if it means I get to read you guys, then it’s fine by me!” Remy exclaimed.

The woman laughed and offered him a bookmark. “Here’s a little information on us, and our company name, of course. I hope you like what you read from us.”

“Definitely,” Remy said.

He was still starry-eyed and Emile gently dragged him away from the stall. “They have queer comics, Emile! Like, I know there’s some queer characters in bigger comics, but these stories...they have main characters who aren’t straight! Can you imagine?!”

Emile laughed. “Hopefully one day they’ll have cartoons like that, too. Then maybe I can understand what you’re feeling a little better.”

Remy was almost hyperventilating. “Pride is amazing,” he said. “I love this. Can we come back next year?!”

“We definitely can,” Emile laughed.

They continued to walk, Emile constantly chatting and greeting people still. Remy got a few nods, and he shyly returned them, holding onto Emile’s hand.

“Hey, girl! In the leather jacket!” a voice called from behind them.

Remy turned in surprise as another person who was wearing a full-on dress in light blue, pink, and white walked over. “I really dig your outfit, girl! You look fabulous!”

“Oh! Uh, th-thank you,” Remy stammered out, nowhere near his usual confident self.

“She and her pronouns for me. You?” she asked.

“Uh...” Remy hesitated. Why was he hesitating? What was so hard about this? “He and him, I guess?”

The woman looked him over closely. “It’s okay, girl, we all have to figure ourselves out in our own time. He and him work for you, that’s great, but if you ever want to switch it up, know that you can do that, you know?” she asked.

“Uh...yeah,” Remy said. “I...I don’t think I’m transgender, but uh...I don’t always like being called sir, you know? Sometimes it’s fine, others it’s just...suffocating.”

“Gender roles  _ are _ suffocating girl, I getcha,” she said, nodding. “Nice to meet you. Tell your cutie of a boyfriend that I like his enthusiasm.”

Remy smiled and nodded, and she moved on. Emile turned to look at him. “Who was that?”

“Don’t know,” Remy said. “But she liked your enthusiasm.”

Emile laughed. “Oh! Well, that’s sweet of her!”

“She also called you a cutie, in case you missed it,” Remy said. “And she’s not wrong.”

Emile laughed, blushing. “Well, I don’t see what either of you see in me, but if enough people say I’m cute, then I guess I’m doomed to be cute forever, huh?”

“Not forever,” Remy said. “And some people might find you hot. I like it when you wear those skinny jeans.  _ Those _ look  _ really _ good on you.”

“Remy!” Emile hissed. “That’s not helpful!”

Remy laughed. “Oh, come  _ on, _ Emile! You know it’s all in good fun!”

“Do I, though?” Emile asked.

“I should hope so,” Remy said. “After all, you’re the one who jokingly called me ‘hot’ first.”

“You can’t prove anything,” Emile said. “Plus, I’m pretty sure you’re the one who thought of me as hot first.”

“Yeah? I thought you were hot the day I dropped out of college and saw you in those skinny jeans for the first time, Emile. I’m not talking serious, I’m talking  _ jokes. _ Get with the program,” Remy teased.

Emile snorted before clapping a hand over his mouth, shoulders shaking. “That early? Really?” he asked.

Remy shrugged. “What can I say? I know how to make  _ anyone _ look good.”

“Shut  _ up!” _ Emile laughed, starting to walk away.

“You know I love you, Emile,” Remy said. “It doesn’t matter whether or not you look hot, because I love you either way.”

“And I, you,” Emile said, kissing Remy’s nose. “Which is why I argue you don’t need that leather jacket everywhere you go.”

“Excuse you, that’s not to make me look hot, that’s part of my aesthetic!” Remy protested.

“Either way it’s unnecessary, Rem,” Emile shrugged.

Remy pouted. “You’re no fun,” he declared.

“Well, I do try,” Emile said. “It’s my mission to make sure you know I’m a stick in the mud, after all.”

“But you’re  _ my _ stick in the mud,” Remy said.

“Oh, you better believe it. I’m not leaving you for anything in the world!” Emile said.

Remy laughed and his stomach held butterflies. “You mean that?”

Emile paused. “Yeah, of course I do,” he eventually said. “Barring some unfortunate accident, a messy fight, or any more drama from any sides, I don’t see myself leaving you.”

“Like, never?” Remy asked. He didn’t know why he was pressing this issue, but something inside him just wanted to be absolutely certain that  _ Emile _ was certain.

Emile looked down at the ground, shuffling on his feet before he kissed Remy softly, sweetly, and with so much adoration Remy was practically drowning in it. A few people around them cheered or whistled, but Remy paid them no mind. His only focus was Emile, when he pulled apart, resting his forehead against Remy’s as he murmured, “Like, never. Never ever.”

Remy wasn’t entirely sure how to respond to that, so he blurted, “That’s gay, Emile.”

Emile laughed. “I love you too, Rem. Where do you want to go next?”

“Uh...food place, maybe? I could use a snack, if not lunch,” Remy said with a shrug.

“To the food trucks!” Emile exclaimed, causing Remy to laugh as they walked hand-in-hand.

Emile swung their hands lightly forwards and backwards as they walked, and Remy grinned. Emile, even when somewhat muted and calmer at pride, was still incredibly happy, and bubbly, and alive. He loved it when Emile seemed to come to life in a whole new way that Remy hadn’t seen before.

“What are you thinking about?” Emile lightly teased.

“You,” Remy said honestly. “You’re just...so alive. You’re completely in your element, and you’re so friendly and happy. You’re like a puppy experiencing grass for the first time. And it’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Oh, shut up,” Emile said, blushing. “I just really like Pride.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Remy said, nodding. “I don’t know why, it just seems to be something you’d like.”

Emile laughed and kissed Remy’s cheek. “It’s pretty great to not worry about PDA.”

“True,” Remy agreed, taking half a step towards Emile.

Emile squeezed Remy’s hand. “I’m super glad you came with me.”

“I’m super glad I came with you too,” Remy said. “Because I’m pretty sure Pride wouldn’t be the same without you.”

Emile grinned. “I mean, I’m sure you could have some fun without me...”

“But why would I want to?” Remy asked. “You make Pride fun...or  _ more _ fun at any rate.”

“You mean that?” Emile asked.

“Of course,” Remy said. “I’m not sure I would want to go at all without you. You just make it...special.”

Emile squeezed Remy’s hand again as they approached the food trucks. “You flatter me,” Emile said.

“I’m speaking the truth,” Remy said. “Don’t sell yourself short, Emile.”

“Come on, what’s so fascinating about me that I make Pride more interesting?”

“You come out of your shell, like, entirely,” Remy said. “I’ve never seen you be so comfortable around a group of certified strangers before.”

“Well, the fact that I know they all at the very least  _ support _ the fact that you’re gay and I’m bisexual and we’re dating helps,” Emile said simply. “I can go up to people and talk about you without having to just use your name and hope people assume I’m referring to you as a girlfriend.”

Remy sighed. “Yeah, I know you’ve felt weird about me visiting you at work because of that. Most everyone at  _ my _ jobs know except for the managers, so as long as we don’t do obvious PDA we’re usually in the clear. But not having to worry about that at all is...”

“Freeing?” Emile offered.

“Yeah,” Remy agreed. “It’s definitely freeing.”

Emile grinned. “Aw, Remy, you  _ like _ me!”

“Shut up!” Remy laughed. “You  _ knew _ this for literal  _ months!” _

“You like me! You like me!” Emile repeated, practically bouncing up and down.

Remy sighed and rolled his eyes, but inside, he was smiling. When they first met, he would never have thought he could have ever made Emile as happy as he was right now, let alone  _ enjoy _ it. But he was never so happy to be wrong.


	38. Chapter 38

####  **March 14th, 1998**

Emile was tired. He had a long day today, and it just felt like it was getting longer when he realized that he had to visit family. It was only one set of his aunts and uncles, and they only had two kids, but he still felt exhausted and not up to much.

That changed the second Emile caught sight of his two younger cousins, though. Their eyes lit up and he felt a small burst of happy energy at being the source of that excitement. He was able to play with them while the adults talked, and Emile laughed as the three of them danced around the living room. He knew he would be dead on his feet later tonight, but that was the price you paid sometimes for family. And it was totally worth it.

####  **July 4th, 2001**

Emile was sitting in the park’s field on their picnic blanket, fondly watching a small child running around, chasing a butterfly. Remy nudged Emile’s foot, capturing his attention. “What has you so smiley?” Remy asked.

“The kid over there,” Emile said, pointing. “Kinda reminds me of some of my younger cousins. Makes me think about family, but in a good way.”

“You can think about family in a good way?” Remy asked dubiously.

“Yeah, I can,” Emile sighed. “It’s not often that I really give it thought, though.”

Remy shrugged. “Why? I get you don’t like  _ my _ family, but you don’t think about  _ yours _ often?”

Emile shrugged. “Well, there’s always the issue of...say...extended family asking about my love life,” he said. “Some of them are accepting and others...I don’t know. They certainly don’t come across that way. And then there’s my grandfather to worry about.”

“He’s not accepting?” Remy asked. “Someone in  _ your _ family is homophobic?”

“Yep,” Emile said, voice strained. “I’ve told him about girlfriends, before, but never about my boyfriends. My parents knew, of course, but not him. He just...doesn’t understand, and doesn’t want to make the effort to understand, at least not right now.”

Remy winced. “What about that kid had you smiling, though? Why were you thinking of family in a good way?” he asked, redirecting the topic back to their original conversation before Emile could brood for too long. A fact which Emile appreciated.

“Well, it makes me think about how things were when I was younger,” Emile said. “And it takes me back to when my cousins were really little and I got to help take care of them. And because my brain is weird and makes random leaps sometimes...”

“What?” Remy asked.

Emile shrugged, looking away. “Makes me think of having kids of my own, some day. Whether or not that’s something that actually happens. And I’m not like... _ seriously _ considering anything. I was never one who really gave a family much thought as a kid, it was never something I wanted outright. But sometimes, in my head, where there’s no lasting consequences if I screw up, I imagine there’s a world out there where I do have kids, biologically or not, and I get to...be a good influence, and make sure they know they’re cared for emotionally  _ and _ physically, and...I don’t know. It’s not something I seriously want, and I would never ask you to raise a kid with me, especially not over this conversation, or any like it. It’s just...a fun mental exercise, sort of.”

Remy seemed to consider this a moment. “You know, I think you should donate to that sperm bank like you wanted to a while ago.”

“What? Why?” Emile asked, mind effectively doing a record scratch.

“I mean, it’s not like you’re going to be the one doing the parenting, but you get to help that family actually exist. That’s pretty cool, and if you really want to help families become families, well, that’s a pretty noble cause, I’d say. And you seem to have family on the brain a lot lately. It could...I don’t know, it’s possible that it could quiet that part of your brain when it starts to nag you about your own family,” Remy said with a shrug.

Emile sighed. “I mean...the reason it’s so hard is because I  _ do _ want a family, just a little bit. Not enough to do anything about it, but I’d like to be a part of someone’s life like that. I’m not sure if donating to a sperm bank would offer that same satisfaction.”

Remy shrugged. “Look, you can do it or not, but I say you should give it a go. Worst comes to worst, no one uses your donation, you know? You could do it anonymously, no one would have to know it was you who was the father.”

Emile shook his head. “No, if I were going to donate I’d have my donation be Open ID. I just...I don’t know, if there  _ were _ kids out there, I feel like it would be only fair for them to know who I was. To be able to ask about medical history in the event of some emergency or another. Even if they tried to seek me out, just to know who I was? That would be okay. I wouldn’t mind keeping in contact with a kid who I helped conceive by like, e-mail or what-have-you. Anonymous donation...just isn’t an option I’d like.”

“Oh,” Remy said.

“Does that change your opinion of it?” Emile asked.

Remy shook his head. “No, if you want to do it, you should do it. Not being anonymous just means we might have an extra person to send Christmas cards to in eighteen years.”

Emile laughed. “Can you imagine if the parents of that poor kid were homophobic? They’d have an aneurysm!”

Remy practically cackled and a few people nearby sent them odd looks. “Oh, man! There’s no laws saying you can’t donate if you’re gay or bi, right?”

“Not that I know of,” Emile said. “So assuming we’re still together in eighteen years, we’d have some very interesting Christmas cards to send.”

Remy sighed, a smile still on his face. “I like to think we’d still be together in eighteen years. Maybe twenty.”

“Yeah?” Emile asked.

“Yeah,” Remy said. “I mean, if we’re not it would have to be for a real good reason, because I can’t see myself... _ not _ enjoying your company.”

Emile blinked. He knew that Remy loved him, they had said as much to each other countless times by now. But every once in a while Remy still said things that took Emile’s breath away. Emile took one of his hands and intertwined it with Remy’s, giving him a smile. He wasn’t sure if Remy even understood how huge this was to Emile. Remy wasn’t just talking about his feelings openly, but he was talking about them casually. Like he was talking about the weather, or saying that Emile’s new glasses made him look nerdier than he already did. It was something that Emile saw as amazing progress. “I love you too, Rem,” Emile said softly.

Remy offered him a smile that was fond and full of softness, and again it took Emile’s breath away for a few seconds. He would do anything to see that smile more, and it made him ecstatic to know that he could do that just by saying how he honestly felt about Remy. His boyfriend.

The sun started to set as Emile and Remy brought out their dinner and began to eat. They had set up their picnic blanket in prime territory to watch the fireworks later tonight. And for now, they were just going to enjoy each others’ company. “So, are you going to do it?” Remy asked.

“May as well,” Emile said with a shrug. “I mean, like you said. Worst comes to worst no one uses my sample. And it’s just one appointment, and then it’s over, and I don’t have to deal with as many nagging thoughts as I otherwise would.”

“Because instinct will know that you helped produce offspring with your DNA and your genetic line gets passed on, and everything works out,” Remy teased.

“Something like that,” Emile laughed.

They returned to eating and soon it was dusk. “Fireworks should be starting soon,” Remy said idly.

Emile felt like he was vibrating in his excitement. “I know. Fireworks are super cool, aren’t they?”

“Yeah,” Remy agreed. “Sometimes they’re a little loud, but they’re very pretty.”

Emile gasped dramatically. “You, Remy Picani, appreciating something that’s pretty?! Wow! I never thought I’d see the day!”

“Shut up!” Remy laughed. “I can admire things that are pretty, and I do it often enough that it’s not unusual! I just usually don’t verbalize it!”

“Oh yeah?” Emile challenged. “List five things around the park that are pretty, right now!”

Remy looked around. “The butterflies, the flowers, the clouds, the sunset in general, really, and a certain man I happen to be sharing a blanket with at the moment.”

Emile short-circuited and made a strangled noise of surprise. “Shut up!” he said, but he was laughing as he did it.

“Not a chance,” Remy said. He dotted kisses on Emile’s cheek. “I have the prettiest, most beautiful boyfriend in the world, and he deserves to know it.”

“Remy!” Emile squealed, laughing. “Stop! I’m not pretty!”

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” Remy said, a mischievous glint in his eye. “And therefore, I can call you pretty as I please. Because to me, there’s no one prettier.”

Emile was blushing, cheeks as hot as a forest fire by this point. “You’re the worst,” he groaned into his hands.

“If by the worst, you mean the worst at letting you think you’re anything but exceptional, then I agree,” Remy said, continuing to pepper Emile’s face with kisses as he removed Emile’s hands.

“Remy!” Emile squawked. “Come on! You’re not playing fair!”

“Well, I’m not playing,” Remy said. “I’m dead serious about this.”

Emile blushed harder, a fact which he had previously thought impossible. “You’re a sap,” he said, a desperate attempt to get Remy to pay attention to something other than Emile.

“Maybe,” Remy allowed. “But I’m  _ your _ sap. You’re stuck with me. Forever. And nothing you can say or do will change my mind.”

“Really?” Emile asked, surprise coloring his words.

“Emile, I seriously doubt there could ever be a time in my life where you’re not so much as my friend anymore. And I don’t intend on breaking up with you. Like, if you were the one to stop this,” Remy gestured vaguely in the air, “Then I wouldn’t be able to stop you, and I’d respect your decision. But until that hypothetical day comes to pass, if it ever does...I’m here with you. There’s no place I’d rather be, in complete honesty.”

“I...” Emile was at a loss for words. “I don’t know what to say.” There was a lump in his throat and his eyes were getting hot. Remy was being so open about loving Emile, and it was in public, where people who might disapprove could see them. Remy was taking that risk, and...and by the look in Remy’s eyes, he knew and he didn’t care. He loved Emile  _ that much. _ “...I love you,” Emile whispered.

Remy smiled good-naturedly, and pulled Emile into his arms for a hug. “I love you too,” he said.

Emile turned in Remy’s arms to kiss him, and the second their lips met, the first firework of the night went off in the sky. Both of them jumped before dissolving into laughter. “Wow, our love really  _ does _ set off fireworks! Just like in the movies!” Emile laughed.

Remy giggled. “That’s pretty cool,” he said. “I’ve never had a relationship that’s set off fireworks before.”

Another boom reverberated through the park and the two turned to look at the falling red sparkles. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Emile asked.

Remy grinned, eyes fixated on the sky. “Almost as beautiful as you, Emile.”

“Stop,” Emile whined.

“Never,” Remy vowed.

They stayed in the park, watching the fireworks go off, content to just be with each other for a while. After the fireworks ended with about twenty consecutive fireworks going off at once, and people were packing up their stuff, Remy and Emile still stayed on the blanket. “I love little domestic moments,” Emile said.

“Yeah, they are pretty nice,” Remy agreed.

“We should make an effort to do more stuff like this,” Emile said. “Going out on dates is fun and all, but so is cooking together. Having pillow fights. Cuddling. It’s super sweet.”

“Oddly enough, I don’t mind that kind of sweetness,” Remy idly mused.

“No?” Emile asked.

Remy hummed in thought, before placing a peck on Emile’s lips. “No. Not when it’s with you, at any rate. You seem to make every moment special. You help me see the good of the little things in life.”

“I’m glad I could help,” Emile said. “The last thing I want is for you to be miserable because anything good that comes your way gets immediately dismissed.”

“I had a bad habit of doing that, yeah,” Remy agreed. He smirked at Emile. “But then a beautiful, good man came into my life and turned that around.”

Emile squeaked. “Stop it!” he protested, but he was grinning ear to ear.


	39. Chapter 39

####  **March 1st, 2001**

Remy was trying to stifle giggles and failing miserably at it. He had come to check on how Emile was doing with his final tutoring session of the day, and arrived at the scene of Emile being pinned down by six kids while two or three more ran circles around his body, chanting something or another. Remy wasn’t entirely sure that Emile wasn’t being used in a human sacrifice to some eldritch being. “What’s going on here?” he asked.

One of the kids’ heads popped up. “Mister Remy! Is dinner ready?”

“Just about,” Remy confirmed. “So you might want to give Mister Emile a break, sound good?”

The kids all left the room in an instant, and Emile sat up, groaning. “Thanks,” he mumbled.

“Any time, my dear partner in all things illegal,” Remy said with a smile. "Anything for you."

####  **July 18th, 2001**

Remy knew that he had to do something special. Emile had to work three night shifts in a row, restocking and working the floor and being wherever he was needed at that point in time. On one hand, it was nice that they would have a little extra cash from all the long hours, but on the other, Emile was constantly dead on his feet, when he wasn’t flat-out sleeping the entire day in his room.

Now, Emile had slept for ten hours, and Remy had everything planned out for a domestic day in. He had taken the liberty to get what they needed for pancake batter for breakfast, and he had all the She-Ra episodes Emile had compiled set up for a mini-marathon, plus a couple other animated movies Remy knew Emile had a soft spot for. Then, he had stuff for a simple lunch. Sandwiches, mostly, but it was still nice. And that evening, they had plans to help at the shelter, so dinner was taken care of for them.

Remy crept into Emile’s room, where Emile was still passed out on the bed. Remy shook Emile’s shoulder. Emile grumbled and buried his head in the pillow. “No, if you don’t let me get away with napping for more than an hour, I won’t let you sleep for more than ten hours in a row unless something super drastic happens,” Remy laughed.

“Remy, lemme sleep,” Emile grumbled.

“But if you sleep, you miss out on a domestic morning in with me!” Remy said with an exaggerated pout. “And I was so looking forward to making pancakes with you.”

Emile removed his face from the pillows. “Pancakes?”

_ Jackpot. _ “Pancakes,  _ mio amore,” _ Remy confirmed. “Made just the way you like, provided you help me.”

Emile sat up with a stretch. “Do we have blueberries to toss in?”

“That we do, I splurged a little on our last shopping trip,” Remy confirmed.

“Okay, I’m up, I’m up,” Emile said, getting out of bed. “Let’s cook us some pancakes.”

Remy grinned and ushered Emile out of his bedroom with a bow. “The most handsome men go first,” he said with a grin.

“Oh, then why are you insisting that I go first?” Emile retorted.

“Because I am not handsome, I am drop-dead gorgeous and what I say goes,” Remy teased. “You. Out. Kitchen. Pancakes.”

“All right, all right!” Emile laughed.

They went to the kitchen and Emile sighed happily. “I’m really happy that we can do something special on a day that is just...kind of...there.”

“Well, we both appreciate the little moments,” Remy reasoned. “So I figured, why not, you know? Let’s make a special morning after you’ve been running yourself into the ground.”

“In other words, give me a reason to not sleep the entire day and then some?” Emile asked, arching an eyebrow.

“More like a thank you for the extra cash we’ll have from you picking up shifts,” Remy said. “I can’t thank you enough for giving us enough money that we could buy  _ blueberries _ of all things.”

Emile laughed. “Well, I’m happy I could help,” he said. “I actually have a trust fund from my late grandmother, but according to her will, I don’t have access to it until I’m twenty one. Maybe at that point we can get blueberries  _ and _ strawberries, though.”

“That would be great,” Remy said with a grin. “We could get actual fruit once a month without worrying about our bank accounts. Is it lame that I find that exciting?”

“No, I think it’s pretty cool, too,” Emile said. “Having fruit once a month, being able to go to places other than pizzarias for dates, it would be fun.”

Remy nodded and got everything that they needed for the pancake mix onto the counters. “You know, there’s a manager position opening in the next few months at the local shop. The current manager is being moved to a secondary location which needs more help.”

“Think you’ll apply for the position?” Emile asked.

“I was gonna try, but I’m not expecting much to come out of it,” Remy admitted. “After all, I haven’t even been working with them for a year, yet.”

“You’ve told me you have better work ethic than most of your coworkers, or at least you care more than they do. Don’t most people at the local chain just...skate by?” Emile asked.

Remy shrugged. “They generally favor people who work there for a long time, even if they don’t actually work that hard. I’m lucky that Marcy saw that I was pulling most of the weight at work and decided to give me a small raise. And I hate to say it, but I think I have better co-workers at Starbucks. August is great, and so’s Brian, and while the manager there sucks, each of us can keep the others’ spirits up pretty easily. I don’t know which chain I’d stick with if I only had to work one job.”

Emile hummed in thought as he measured out water. Remy turned to him. “What?” he asked.

“Meh, it’s probably nothing,” Emile said. “But I was wondering, I mean, you love cooking and experimenting with all kinds of food and stuff...would you ever want to branch out from being a barista, and try being a chef of some sort? Go to culinary school, or whatever?”

“Not really,” Remy laughed. “I love cooking, Emile, don’t get me wrong, but being a barista is somehow relaxing after a while. I’m good at it, and I know what I’m doing. I talked to Marcy recently about how the shop was doing and was able to follow most of what she was saying about the business side of things. I don’t think I’d want to move out of coffee shops. But I wouldn’t object to being a manager instead of a barista.”

“What about an owner?” Emile asked.

Remy laughed. “Emile, that would never happen in a million years. I don’t have the money to start up my own shop.”

“Hey, if I can do mental exercises about what it would be like to be a dad, then you can do some about being a shop owner. Would you like it, do you think?”

Remy considered. It would be a lot of pressure, and everything would rest on his shoulders, but that wasn’t a  _ bad _ thing. And he knew enough about business to run a small shop. Maybe not a chain, but he didn’t have to run a chain if one shop theoretically sustained them both. “Probably,” he eventually settled on. “I’d get to make my own recipes, be my own boss, I could kick customers out if they weren’t being kind to either the workers or myself. It would be a lot of work, but it would be worth it, you know? Theoretically.”

“Yeah, theoretically I think it would be great,” Emile said. “Sounds like something you could do out of spite, too. They don’t move you up the food chain? Quit and start your own shop, that outdoes theirs and makes them have to leave town.”

Remy laughed. “Of course, because I could totally have the money and the means to do that.”

“Hey, like I said, it’s just a ‘what if’ situation,” Emile shrugged.

Remy shook his head. He really didn’t understand Emile sometimes.

They made the pancakes together, enjoying each others company and poking fun at each other as they worked, and then ate. Remy told Emile about his plans for a cartoon marathon and Emile looked like he was about to cry happy tears. “What’s the big deal?” Remy asked. “I let you watch cartoon marathons all the time.”

“Yeah, but you don’t do it  _ with _ me, and you don’t  _ encourage _ it,” Emile pointed out. “And considering that you started out being convinced that cartoons were entirely childish and I should have grown out of my love for them, this is a big step in my opinion. You might have come around slowly, but I haven’t  _ seen _ that progress, so when you casually show support it’s like a shock to the system. A good shock, but a shock nonetheless.”

Remy sat there for a moment, stunned. He had forgotten that Emile didn’t see all his progress, all his talks with Kim, everything that went into his therapy sessions. He only saw the end product. He didn’t want to show Emile that whole thought process, though. That was a conversation Remy didn’t feel up to right now. So he said, “I guess you have a point,” instead.

They watched cartoons until it was four in the evening, and then they headed out towards the shelter. Remy generally helped cook food and serve it for dinner, while Emile helped entertain the small children, so they didn’t always work side-by-side, but they got to talk on the way over, and the way back, and of course, they got to have dinner too before they left.

Today, though, the walk to the shelter was done in companionable silence. They just walked side by side, a little too close to be just friendly, hands brushed against each other, but neither of them reached for the other. When they got to the shelter, they walked in and immediately Emile was swarmed by a dozen tiny humans all vying for his attention at once. Remy laughed and pecked Emile’s cheek as he went to the kitchen.

Cooking was entertaining enough. Remy had become the unofficial head chef on accident after revealing how good a cook he was when he wanted to put in the effort. He had to keep the others on track, sometimes, but everyone there worked their best and he got to have a few laughs with them every time they worked together.

They rang the bell to start dinner and people lined up as usual, Remy serving them as usual, and when everyone had food, the volunteers came into the back grabbing the remains of the dinner, heading out to eat at the tables as well. Remy sat next to Emile and they both worked on sandwiches. “The kids were very excited to see you kiss me,” Emile said casually.

“I kiss you all the time,” Remy said, frowning.

“Yeah, but apparently they didn’t realize you were my boyfriend, and some of them hadn’t realized that boys can like boys and girls can like girls. So what usually involved me being a monster with the kids grabbing on my legs and me roaring like Godzilla became an actual discussion about romance, and love, and all that good stuff,” Emile explained.

“Huh,” was all Remy said. The mental image of Emile being a giant monster for the kids made him giggle, though, almost as much as the time he found Emile lying on the floor, laughing as half a dozen of the gremlins were keeping him pinned down.

“Yeah. Kids are incredibly accepting, believe it or not. Provided you tell them something is okay, they’ll generally believe you. And the older ones might ask questions, but generally it’s nothing too invasive. And it’s fun to get to play with them in the off-months when they don’t have school. Sure, tutoring is useful, but it’s nice to play with them, too, you know what I mean?”

“Not really, but I appreciate your enthusiasm and enjoyment of it,” Remy said with a shrug.

Emile grinned and Bernie looked at the two of them. “I’m pleased that the both of you help here regularly. It’s nice to have people I can count on, and you two make a good team. I’m sure that if you ever had kids, you both would be excellent fathers.”

Remy made a noncommittal noise. “I don’t know, Bernie. Helping kids for a couple hours a day is one thing. Dealing with them virtually twenty four-seven is another. I’m not entirely sure that I could handle that.”

“You wouldn’t be doing it alone,” Emile offered. “But I agree. I don’t see kids being part of our future. Raising them seems like a daunting task. Obviously, I’d do it if needed, but it would definitely take a lot.”

“We do make a good team, though,” Remy said with a grin.

Emile ducked his head and smiled. “We do,” he agreed.


	40. Chapter 40

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick reminder that if y'all kill me over angsty chapters, you never get to see the angst resolved. The angst should stop three chapters or so after this, but until then...you've been warned.

####  **March 13th, 1999**

Emile sat in his bedroom, staring at the lighter in his trembling hands. All he needed to do was flick it on, and decide where on his arm he’d leave the first mark. Maybe it was selfish. Maybe it was wrong. But everything else was going wrong, why couldn’t he show that through his own pain?

People said that it was selfish to commit suicide. Emile disagreed. His friends who had killed themselves, they weren’t selfish, they were desperate. They couldn’t see any way out so they made their own way. And it hurt Emile more than words could ever say. But maybe...maybe the lighter could say it for him. He flicked the flame on, and shakily put his arm over the fire, closer...closer...

Not close enough. In an instant, the lighter was snatched from his hands and he jumped as he realized his mom was there, staring at him. “Emile, what do you think you’re doing?!” she asked. “Don’t you know you can get seriously hurt doing that?”

He looked up in shock. He spoke without thinking. “That was kind of the idea.”

His mother shook her head. “Downstairs,” she said. “Now. We’re finding you a therapist.”

####  **August 8th, 2001**

Emile fell back into the car with a sigh. It was done. He had just donated to the sperm bank, and he never had to think about how embarrassed he felt making his donation ever again.

Well, he’d never have to think about it after Remy’s obligatory teasing. There was always the obligatory teasing to consider, at least when it came to things near and dear to Emile’s heart. Usually it wasn’t done with malice, and if Remy crossed a line nowadays he’d apologize. Emile still wondered, though, why exactly Remy always teased Emile about the things Emile really cared about.

He drove to Starbucks, where Remy was working for another hour or so. He had some time, and a little extra change in his pocket, so he figured he may as well go for a coffee. When he walked in, though, Remy must have been in the back, because there was a woman Emile didn’t recognize at the register. She flashed him a smile as he walked up, but Emile felt slightly unnerved by it for reasons he couldn’t explain. “Hi there! How may I help you?” she asked.

“Hi. Uh...tall Earl Grey tea would be lovely, thanks,” Emile said.

“Sure thing, cutie!” the woman said. “Can I get a name for the order?”

“Emile.”

“Oh! Are you Remy’s friend?” the woman asked. “He talks about an Emile he shares an apartment with all the time.”

“That’s me,” Emile said with a smile. “I have some free time so I figured I’d relax here before I pick him up, you know?”

The woman nodded. “Yeah, he said the two of you only have your car to get around. Say, you free Friday night?”

A beat. That was a sudden change in conversation. “Uh...sorry, I’ve got plans,” Emile managed. “My boyfriend and I are hanging out.”

The woman tsked. “Shame, you’re too cute to be gay,” she said. Emile wisely didn’t correct her about being bisexual. “I’ll get you your order, cutie.”

Emile nodded and took up a table by the window, watching the people outside walk by. So many people with different lives, different stories. He was just one college kid in an entire world full of people with unique perspectives on this planet. He was just a background character in most people’s stories, and it hurt his head to think about sometimes. That he might have unwittingly appeared in someone else’s dream and he would never know because that person could have just passed him on the street one day and never saw him again.

There was a call of “Order for Emile!” from the counter and Emile smiled, walking over to Remy to grab his order. He may have been a side character in most people’s stories, but he was glad he was a main character in Remy’s.

“Still get off in an hour?” Emile asked Remy.

“Yep,” Remy confirmed. “Planning on hanging out here until then?”

“Pretty much,” Emile agreed. “You know where to find me when your shift’s over.”

Remy nodded and Emile went back to his seat, sipping his tea. He didn’t have much to do for an hour, so he just sat and continued his people watching until, with a world-weary sigh, Remy collapsed in the chair opposite him. “Shift’s over,” Remy breathed. “And Jane was very disappointed about your mystery boyfriend.”

Emile laughed. “Ouch, yeah. I hate when people try and hit on me, especially when I can’t say you’re my boyfriend without risking you getting fired.”

Remy sighed and nodded. “Jane’s a bit much at all times. She’ll flirt with just about any guy over the age of eighteen. She’ll flirt with  _ me, _ sometimes, even though I’ve made it clear to her that I won’t date a coworker. She doesn’t have to know it’s because I’m already taken.”

Emile laughed and finished his tea. “I don’t suppose she’s the most accepting person on the planet.”

“Definitely not,” Remy agreed.

They both stood and walked out of the shop, Emile yawning. “Man, I’m tired, and I didn’t even have a shift today.”

“Yeah, but you did have a date with the sperm bank,” Remy teased, nudging Emile’s shoulder with his own. “How did that go?”

“Without a hitch, believe it or not,” Emile said. “No people accidentally walking in or knocking on my door, no awkward conversations with any of the women in the waiting room, nothing. It was an in-and-out thing.”

“That’s good,” Remy said. “Of course, this is you we’re talking about. I doubt anything in your life  _ could _ go badly.”

Emile coughed out an awkward laugh. How was he supposed to respond to that? “I’ve had things go wrong on me before, believe it or not,” he managed to say.

“Yeah, but you’ve got it pretty easy,” Remy said.

They got in Emile’s car and Emile chewed on his words. “I wouldn’t say I have it easy, per se,” he said. In his mind’s eye, he was thinking about his high school years. All the tears, the pain, the anger, the therapy appointments and the shock on his parents’ face when he...no. That was enough of that. He didn’t have to go down that road. Just focus on driving. “My life’s gotten better over the past few years, but it wasn’t easy to get this far.”

“Emile, no offence, but I sincerely doubt that you could  _ ever _ have a serious problem. Your friends, maybe. I know you said you lost a couple of them, and almost lost a few more, but...if that’s the worst that happened, then I would argue it wasn’t that bad. It affected you personally, but it didn’t traumatize you,” Remy said.

“You don’t know that for certain,” Emile muttered under his breath.

“What?” Remy asked.

Emile sighed. “Nothing,” he said. “Just saying that you’re jumping to conclusions a bit early.”

“Well, come on, you’re still here without a scratch on you, I’d hardly say that it was that bad if you’re here without a scratch on you,” Remy said.

“Not all scratches and scars are easily viewable,” Emile said. “My life isn’t all sunshine and rainbows, Rem. Never has been, never will be, and it certainly isn’t right now.”

“How bad can it be, though, really?” Remy asked.

Emile forced himself to relax as he parked the car in their parking lot and walked inside. “It can be pretty bad, Rem. My friends...my friends had problems. Problems that I had to help with. And it hurt me to help them, sometimes, and it hurts to look back on them now.”

Remy scoffed, and Emile felt himself twitch. He had gotten used to Remy being a little softer around most subjects, and had forgotten how stubborn he could be when it came to anything surrounding trauma. “Rem, I’m serious. It hurt. It was bad.”

“How can  _ anything _ in your life be bad?!” Remy asked incredulously. “You’re practically  _ perfect _ in every sense of the word! You never even  _ look _ sad! How could anything that happened to you leave such bad scars that you can’t even stand to look at them now? Huh? What was so unspeakably bad that you can’t bear to think about it? Friends come and go, Emile, that’s just a fact of life! People get hurt sometimes, and it’s not the end of the world, it’s not even bad most of the time! It’s the emotional equivalent of a scraped knee!”

“You don’t know what I’ve been through!” Emile exclaimed, voice cracking. “You don’t get to decide what was and wasn’t bad for me!”

“Oh, right, because you could ever have it bad! Ever!” Remy snapped. “Your life is so miserable because you had some people you cared about and they’re not around anymore! It happens! My family tried to kill me, Emile! I don’t think you can top that!”

“I’m not trying to top it!” Emile exclaimed. “But I’ve had friends die on me, friends try to kill themselves and cut off all contact with me! I’ve had to hear my grandfather go on about how he hates people like me, without him ever knowing that it’s me he’s talking about! I’ve been dismissed, I’ve been belittled, I’ve been picked on for being smart and picked on for being dumb! I never felt like I fit in anywhere except with a select few friends, and even then I was the odd one out in most cases! And maybe my parents didn’t try to  _ fucking kill me, _ but the rest of the world certainly did!

“You think I magically made it through my high school years unscathed, with friends killing themselves and self-harming and unloading on me because I was the only one they trusted? Do you know how many times I stared at razors, and lighters, wondering what it would feel like if I could just feel pain for a brief second, and let it show? I wanted that pain so bad, Remy, I  _ wanted _ the scars because then people would know I wasn’t okay, and things weren’t perfect the way you claim they were! I was lucky; the first time I was going to try my mother found me and stopped me! And my parents helped  _ me _ get  _ therapy _ because I’m not  _ fucking perfect, _ and  _ I can’t handle everything on my own! _ And at least I have the stones to admit it! I don’t keep everything to myself until I physically can’t anymore and break down into a useless heap!”

Remy turned red. “So, what, by not admitting to everyone that I feel bad sometimes I’m automatically useless? I’m automatically unhealthy and in need of help because I don’t wear my heart on my sleeve?!”

“That’s not what I’m saying!” Emile snapped.

“Well that’s what I’m hearing!” Remy exclaimed. “You can’t possibly tell me anything that would be worse than what I’ve been through!”

“I’m not playing the misery Olympics, I just wanted acknowledgement that sometimes life sucks!” Emile exclaimed. “I wanted to lean on you for a minute, because I thought that we understood we’d both do that for each other!”

“Whatever!” Remy crossed his arms and turned away. “You’re making this out to be way worse a situation than it is, Emile! You’re exaggerating! This isn’t a situation any competent  _ adult _ would need help with!”

Emile reeled back like he had been slapped. He may as well have been, with what Remy just said. “You genuinely think...you actually think that I’m incompetent?” Emile asked softly. “You think that I can’t handle myself? That I’m just an idiot who’s going to get hurt the second you leave me alone?”

“You don’t?” Remy asked.

Emile’s hands balled into fists. “Fuck you, Remy.” Emile’s voice was filled with pent-up fury, but he couldn’t reign it in even if he wanted to. “If you think I’m that stupid, why even stay with me? Am I just your emotional punching bag? The person you go to when you can’t vent to anyone else? I’m just supposed to stand here and take the hit without expecting anything in return?!” Emile’s breath was ragged, and he laughed, a choked sound that resembled someone being strangled. “Well, that’s just perfect, isn’t it? Here I thought you actually cared about me, when in fact you were just using me. Great. Thanks for clearing that up.” Emile smacked his fists against his skull. “What I wouldn’t do for a little pain right now.” Smack. “After all, maybe then you’d understand I’m hurting, right?!” Smack. Smack. “Maybe then you’d understand that you don’t need to be traumatized to struggle with your mental health!” Smack. Smack. Smack.

Remy was staring at him, a silent, startled gaze looking Emile over.

“Forget it,” Emile said, a few tears finally starting to fall.

“Emile...” Remy reached a hand out, but Emile backed away.

“Just forget it,” Emile said. “I’ll help with my half of the rent, but I won’t bother you anymore. We don’t have to be boyfriends, since I’m clearly just a pity case.”

And before either of them could say anything more, Emile hid in his room for the rest of the day.


	41. Chapter 41

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, if you want to feel something especially heartbreaking, read the opening of this chapter before going back to chapter eleven and see if you can spot the reason I'm mentioning this. ;) (If you can't, I can explain in the comments. But be prepared for angst.)

####  **October 8th, 1996**

Remy dashed after the retreating figure. “George! Hey, hold up!”

George stopped and glared at Remy, and Remy felt frozen in place. “Were you ever going to tell me?” he snapped.

“Tell you what?” Remy asked.

“That you had a crush on me?!” George asked. “You’re sick in the head, Remy! Don’t you know that you can get in serious trouble for being gay?!”

“Who...who told you I had a crush on you?” Remy asked, searching George’s face, blood roaring in his ears. It couldn’t be. No...it couldn’t...please don’t let it be  _ him. _

“Jacob told Darren, who told me,” George sneered.

“I...that was last year, George! I don’t have a crush anymore!” Remy lied.

George scoffed. “Whatever! I can’t believe you thought we could be friends. I don’t associate with  _ queers.” _

Remy stayed frozen in place as George went to his next class. Remy heard snickering from behind him. Jacob and Darren were standing there, and Darren high-fived Jacob. “Nice one. Want to sit at lunch with me?” Darren asked.

“Sure thing!” Jacob exclaimed.

Jacob told the most popular kids in school. Remy couldn’t move. The whole school must know by now...

####  **August 22nd, 2001**

Remy watched Emile closely whenever he could get away with it in their small apartment. Emile had been wearing T-shirts over the summer, so Remy could watch his arms, but he couldn’t see any other exposed skin below Emile’s neck, and Remy was worried that Emile might be hiding fresh injuries. After seeing Emile bang his fists against his head repeatedly in frustration and then hide in his room for the rest of the day and not acknowledge Remy the next morning, well, Remy was worried.

In all honesty, he wasn’t sure he still had the right to worry over Emile, but it didn’t mean he just  _ stopped _ caring. He kept to himself, too afraid to openly check on Emile, but when he was alone in his room, his head would drop, his tears would fall, and choked sobs would escape their prison. He had screwed up, probably irreparably damaged not only his relationship, but his  _ friendship _ with Emile. His one friend in life who he could always count on. Who helped him find Kim. Who encouraged him to make more friends. And he had gone and tossed away that bond.

It was one morning when Remy was making breakfast that Emile walked into the kitchen, wincing as he placed a hand on his abdomen. Remy tried not to freak out as he did a mental tally of all the sharp tools in their apartment and their locations. Nothing seemed out of place or bloody this morning, but that only soothed Remy’s nerves so much.

Emile glanced over and caught Remy staring, and Remy turned back to his toast. “What?” Emile snapped.

Remy flinched minutely. “It’s nothing,” he mumbled.

“No, I didn’t cut myself, since I know you’re wondering. My stomach happens to be upset,” Emile growled. “I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction of hurting myself over your words.”

“Do you honestly think I want that, Emile?” Remy asked. “Because I don’t.”

Emile didn’t even glance in Remy’s direction at that, and Remy felt his stomach sink. “What can I say, Emile? I’m sorry! I crossed a line I didn’t know was there, and I won’t cross it again!” His eyes pricked with tears. “I want to be your friend. I don’t even care if we don’t date anymore, I just want to be your friend again.”

“Well, I don’t,” Emile said, gripping the counter with white knuckles. “Because we’re always doing this. We cycle through good times, and then one bad thing happens and we’re back where we started, at each others’ throats, only this time we know where to find the jugular. I don’t want to keep going through that cycle the rest of my life.”

“But we can get better at that, can’t we? I’ve gotten more stable! I just didn’t realize that we both had strong opinions on this! Can’t we...can’t we at least be friends? Can’t we at least try?” Remy begged. “Please, Emile. I don’t want to lose you.”

Emile’s eyes were hard as he finally looked over, and Remy knew he looked pathetic. Eyes red and puffy, tear tracks on his cheeks because he was always such a crybaby. He would never outgrow that. “It’s a bit late for that,” Emile said simply, pushing himself off the counter.

Remy wilted. “Oh,” he said softly. Then, “Will you take me to therapy still, or should I walk?”

“How did you get there last week?” Emile asked.

“I didn’t. Kim’s getting ready to move practices, and states. We’ve been moving from every week to every other week, in an attempt to get me used to not going to a therapist as often, because if I choose another one, then I might have to be put on a waiting list for a while,” Remy said.

“If?” Emile asked. “Not when?”

“Well, considering this whole situation, I’m pretty sure that I can’t get any better than this,” Remy said, letting his arms spread before falling to his sides. “I didn’t think I needed any more help, two weeks ago. I thought I’d be fine. But clearly, all the change has just been superficial, if I’m still hurting you.” He shook his head. “Why am I even telling you this? You don’t want to be my friend, you don’t want to hear about this.”

Emile looked conflicted for a brief second, before his face returned to its stony, neutral state. “I have to get to work,” he said by way of reply, grabbing some granola and leaving the kitchen. “If you need a ride to therapy, call me. But I’m sure you can walk there just fine in about an hour.”

Remy nodded silently, turning back to his toast. He listened to Emile get dressed in a hurry, and head out the door, slamming it possibly a little harder than necessary. Flinching minutely, Remy went back to eating his toast. He wasn’t sure he really wanted to eat, but he needed it if he was going to be working today. He tried to avoid the thought that Emile would be upset if he didn’t eat. Emile didn’t want to be friends, he had made that very clear. And people who weren’t your friends didn’t actively want you to care for yourself, not in the sense that friends did.

He was alone. He felt so alone, and it wasn’t fair, except it was. He had brought this punishment on himself, and now he had to face the consequences. Remy took a deep breath, forcing the bile crawling up his throat back down. Now was not the time to cry himself sick. He had work to get to, and therapy later tonight.

Remy walked his way to the local coffee shop, wishing not for the first time that he could have gotten that promotion to manager. Instead of him, Steven had been promoted. Which, that wasn’t the  _ worst _ choice they could have gone with, but Steven didn’t exactly go the extra mile, either. He would look out for himself, and only himself.

As Remy came in the doorway, a couple people nodded at him, and he offered them weak smiles back. He hadn’t been able to tell anyone here about his issues with Emile, just implying that he had a bad couple weeks over a break up, without being able to use Emile’s name, because Steven was always around. It frustrated him to no end that he was constantly forced to hide this part of himself. He wanted to jump on the counters and scream, “I’m here, I’m queer, and if you have a problem with that, then say it to my face!”

But that would be suicide when it came to his job, so he forced himself to keep his mouth shut just a while longer. He didn’t know how much longer he’d have to do it, considering that yeah, Fairview was liberal enough, but not the people inside it who he ran into on a daily basis. He wondered how any of the blue politicians actually got into office around here, if there were so many homophobes, but, he reasoned, if the politicians didn’t reveal their stance on the LGBT community, and focused more on schools or taxes or whatever, then they could slip under the radar and help people like Remy, which he appreciated.

Even if he no longer had any plans to date, or get married. He saw Emile as really the only one he’d be willing to risk hate crimes for. Who he’d find a way in the legislature to marry. And now Emile was gone. Probably never coming back. And that  _ sucked. _

One of his coworkers cornered him in the back room as he was tying his apron on. “Boyfriend troubles?” he asked in a low voice. Steven was one of the few people still in the dark about Remy’s identity, because Steven was very vocal about political views, and he was very,  _ very _ conservative. He also happened to be using the office one room over.

“We broke up. Really messily. Two weeks ago. And he’s still snarling at me, and I feel awful.” Remy shook his head. “I mean, he has the right to, I was the one who provoked him, but I really wish I hadn’t.”

“And he won’t listen to you?”

Remy laughed. “Would you, if I were a complete and utter asshole to you all because I didn’t think you could get hurt?”

“Not at first. But two weeks is a long time, man. He’s not still licking his wounds, he’s holding a grudge.”

“Look, I appreciate your concern, but I’ll be fine,” Remy insisted. “It’ll be okay, I’ll be okay. I just need a little more time, and maybe a new roommate. I know it would make him feel better, at the very least.”

“Picani! Where are you?!” Steven asked, walking in.

“Right here,” Remy said. “Just struggling a little with the straps on my apron. Bradley was helping me.”

“Well, fix it fast, because I need both of you out here for the morning rush,” Steven snapped.

The second he left Remy breathed a sigh and Bradley grimaced. “Is it just me, or did Steven get  _ worse _ when he was promoted?”

“Not just you,” Remy said. “Although I always thought he was fishy, so this is less of a surprise to me personally.”

Bradley grimaced again and both of them left the back room to deal with the morning rush. Remy appreciated the distraction so long as he didn’t think about it as a distraction. Because if he did that, he would get memories of the shelter, and hanging out being happy with Emile...and he would get upset and possibly teary-eyed that he couldn’t have that anymore.  _ And no one wants their barista sobbing into their coffee, Remy, so you have to pull it together, man, _ Remy reminded himself.

A pang in his chest resonated when he remembered Emile calling him “girl” on those days where he was super confused about his gender, and he bit his lip to keep back the tears. He kept biting at every little thing that came into his head that reminded him of Emile, which had to be about half of the world, until he tasted copper. He put a hand to his mouth, pulling it back to see blood. He winced. He hadn’t realized he was biting that hard.

Retreating to the bathroom to wash his hands free of blood, he tried to force all thoughts of Emile out of his mind. It wasn’t working very well, in all honesty, but he had to try. He couldn’t end up sobbing into someone’s coffee. Steven would get mad and all his other coworkers would know something was up and those who had initiative when it came to friends might kill Emile. He didn’t want Emile dead, he just wanted to be friends. But he had squandered that opportunity, unaware of how much he needed Emile’s support until it was gone.

The rest of his shift, Remy was on the edge of crying, but never actually broke down. He got a few concerned looks, and a massive headache from holding the tears back, but he managed to do it in the end. And the second his shift ended, he was out of there. He walked back home, only to realize that Emile would be back at this point too. He turned away from the door and walked back outside the complex, resolving to go to therapy. After all, he didn’t have a lot of time before his next appointment anyway. Not if he had to walk there.

He trudged along the sidewalk, letting himself cry just a little, trying to ease the headache that was killing him. He was tired, and miserable, and he could feel a tickle in the back of his throat. He sincerely hoped he wasn’t getting sick. The last thing he needed was to be stuck at home with Emile before Emile’s classes started up. But knowing his luck, he would end up with the flu and be bedridden for a solid week.

When Kim opened the door to her office and let Remy in, Remy sighed. “I screwed up, Kim. Like, really badly.”

“Let’s talk about it,” Kim said. “I’m sure it can’t be that bad.”


	42. Chapter 42

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is pretty much the wrap-up of this round of angst. There might be a few loose ends, or everything might not feel one-hundred percent again, but know that I can answer any questions you might have, and if it's acknowledged later in the story, I'll try to be vague enough to not spoiler. :)
> 
> EDIT: Trigger Warning for vomiting, sorry I forgot to list that in the first place!

####  **September 30th, 1986**

Emile crossed his arms and stared up at his dad, trying his hardest to not pout at what he was hearing. “Why do I  _ have _ to forgive him?!” Emile asked.

His did sighed. “Emile, you don’t have to forgive him, but you can’t just keep ignoring him or running away when he tries to talk to you. That’s not good for you  _ or _ him.”

“But if I talk to him again he’s gonna act like everything is normal again! And it’s not! He broke my Scooby-Doo lunchbox!” Emile said, and he was definitely pouting at this point.

“And he apologized. You don’t have to forgive him, but you can’t ignore him for the rest of your life, Emile,” his dad said. “Especially since you’re in the same class. You’ll run into each other a lot.”

####  **September 3rd, 2001**

Of course it had to happen this way, Emile thought sullenly. It was the first few days of his sophomore year of college, and Remy had been in the bathroom for the past twenty minutes. At this rate, Emile was going to be late for his classes. He knocked on the door. “Remy, come on, I need to use the bathroom too, you know!”

He didn’t get a response. Emile frowned, knocking again. The door and walls were thick, but not  _ that _ thick. “Remy, let me in!”

Again, nothing. Emile listened closely and when he did, he heard the faint but unmistakable sound of heavy breathing. Right before there was a groan, and then easily-recognizable retching. Emile cringed. He was definitely not looking forward to using the bathroom right after Remy got sick.

There was faint flushing and then the sound of the water running at the sink, and Remy unlocked and opened the door. “Just be fast, please, I dunno when I’m gonna puke again.”

Emile silently moved Remy out of the way and closed the door, doing his business, brushing his teeth, and then he was out, at which point Remy rushed back in and threw up again. Emile hesitated at the door, looking at Remy for a few seconds longer than his usual glances. Remy looked more miserable than usual. Part of him wanted to stay here and make sure he was okay. But the rest of him was painfully reminded of Remy’s casual dismissal of Emile’s problems, even before their argument, and he knew it was better if he stayed away, so he left for school.

Emile was slightly irked that the only thing he could think about in his free time was Remy’s sick, miserable face that morning. He had to awkwardly explain to his friends the fight that had ensued between himself and Remy, and why they weren’t talking, let alone dating, right now. When he had to answer the question of “How’s Remy doing?” for the tenth time that day, his patience snapped. “Why don’t you just ask him yourself the next time you see him?!”

The others looked surprised. Theo had paused with a Coke halfway to his lips. Clara was staring at him with her eyebrows furrowed. Xavier just stared at him in silent shock. Theo broke the silence first, “Well, he doesn’t really hang around the college a whole lot, you see him more than we do.”

“I’ll tell him to come over more often, then,” Emile said sullenly. “Because I’m not his messenger, or his errand boy!”

“Emile...what happened?” Xavier asked.

“I’m really tired of answering that question. You guys are friends with each other, and with other people who I’ve already answered that question to! Is everyone just...just dead-set on asking me that question until it’s beaten to death?!” Emile growled.

His friends looked at each other, then at him. “Clearly,  _ something _ happened over the summer,” Theo said slowly. “And none of us want to pry, Emile, but if you need us...we’re here for you.”

Emile sighed. “I know, I know. I’m...it’s just not been easy for the past month or so...Remy and I got in a bad fight, and I’m not quite ready to forgive him. So having people constantly ask is a little much.”

“What happened?” Clara asked.

“He dismissed my mental health because I wasn’t traumatized as a child,” Emile stated without any preamble. “He said that nothing in my life could go wrong. He invalidated my experiences. When I had to go to therapy and thought about self-harm virtually every day, when my friends tried to kill themselves and some of them actually succeeded...that’s not...that’s not right. He’s not right. And I can’t bring myself to forgive him.”

A thick silence hung over them. “And you’ve been giving him the cold shoulder for a month?” Theo asked.

Emile crossed his arms. “Is there a problem?”

“Look, I’m not saying that Remy was right. Whatsoever. But living with someone and denying them all but basic human interaction for a  _ whole month _ does things to people. I know Remy would volunteer with you, but has he left the apartment for anything other than appointments and work for that month? Has he gone to see any friends that are here over the summer? Has he been isolating himself? Not leaving his room for anything but food and the bathroom? Do you know if he feels trapped in his own home?” Theo pressed.

“I...” Emile was slightly ashamed of his answer. “I...don’t...know.”

“Man, if he feels like he’s trapped in his own place there’s something wrong. You don’t have to forgive him for what he did if you’re not ready. But you can’t trap him and contribute to his misery,” Theo said.

Emile scratched the back of his neck. “He hasn’t been talking to me lately, and I’ve been...relieved. But if he’s not talking to me, then the only person he would have to talk to consistently is Kim, and Kim’s moving by the end of the month.” He paled. “Shit. I’m hurting him in way worse ways than he hurt me. Shit!”

“Hey, Emile, deep breaths,” Clara said. “You can fix this. Make sure he’s all right, tell him what you told us. You’re not ready to forgive him, but you’re not going to ignore him any more.”

“What if he doesn’t forgive me?” Emile asked. “I  _ did _ ignore him for a solid month, after all, he has every right to snap at me and tell me to get lost.”

“Okay, but all of us know Remy too,” Xavier said. “And I believe he wouldn’t take a second chance lightly, for one, and he wouldn’t tell you to get lost if he’s in desperate need for help for another. If he tells you to get lost, you can listen to him, and know that he’s just licking his wounds or asserting boundaries. It’s if he accepts your help without a second of hesitation that you need to worry.”

Emile swallowed. “I should...I should go. My classes are over, I should check on him.”

His friends let him go and he dashed to his car and hurried back to the apartment. He took the steps two at a time and dropped his stuff at the door. “Remy?!” he called. “You here?!”

There was a whimper in the bathroom, and Emile rushed over. Remy flinched away from him, curling around the toilet. “Remy, I owe you an apology. But first, are you okay?”

Remy’s arms shook as he hugged the toilet and blinked at Emile. “An...apology...?” he asked, his words moving through molasses.

“Yeah, Rem, an apology,” Emile said, biting his lip. “I shouldn’t have given you the cold shoulder for a whole month. I should have just told you I wasn’t ready to forgive you and been civil otherwise. Ignoring you for that long was cruel.”

Remy’s eyes filled with tears and he muttered, “This is a dream. This is a fever dream. I’m hallucinating.”

Emile’s heart broke. Had he really hurt Remy to that extent? He needed to fix this. He needed Remy to feel safe again. And he needed his best friend back. “No, this is real, Rem. I’m genuinely sorry. I shouldn’t have done what I did.”

Remy just shook his head before turning green and coughing bile into the toilet. “Emile, I don’t feel good,” he mumbled.

“You don’t look so good either,” Emile said. “Is it okay if I take you to your room? I’ll bring a trash can just in case.”

“Mm. Mhm,” Remy hummed.

Emile gently picked Remy up bridal style and carried him back to Remy’s room, hurrying to the bathroom and bringing back a trash can. Emile was about to leave the room, but Remy made a desperate noise and reached out a shaky hand. “Stay?” he pleaded. “I know I don’t deserve it, but I want company. Even if it is a hallucination.”

His hesitation must have been clear on his face, because Remy blinked blearily and let his hand drop. “Or not,” he mumbled.

“Hey, no, Rem, I can stay,” Emile murmured. “I just wasn’t sure if you’d really want me here. If I was welcome. I hurt you.”

“And I hurt you. We’re even,” Remy said, closing his eyes. “Just. Sit.”

Emile sat at the foot of Remy’s bed. For a minute, it looked like Remy was falling asleep, but then he opened his eyes, looked at the foot of the bed, and frowned. “Emile?”

“Yeah, hey. You with me, Remy?” Emile asked.

“Why are you here?” Remy asked.

Emile sighed. “I came home to apologize, and you were in pretty bad shape. Convinced I was a hallucination.”

“Why...why would you apologize?” Remy asked.

“Remy, I ignored you for a whole month and snapped at you when I couldn’t ignore you. I made your safe place incredibly unsafe. I hurt you,” Emile said.

“It’s nothing my parents wouldn’t do,” Remy said.

“Yeah, but I’m not your parents,” Emile said. “And I don’t want to be like them.”

Remy sighed. “I don’t like thinking about them. I don’t like thinking about you, either, because it just makes me sad. I screwed up the best thing to ever happen to me and I don’t understand why  _ you’re _ apologizing to me when  _ I’m _ the one who dismissed your mental health.”

“Okay, yeah, that was a dick move,” Emile allowed. “But I shouldn’t have given you the cold shoulder for a month. Because that’s  _ also _ a dick move. That’s why I’m apologizing.”

Remy groaned, turning on his side and dry-heaving in the general direction of the trashcan. “Have you been able to hold down liquids?” Emile asked.

“I haven’t left the bathroom long enough to find out,” Remy moaned.

“I’ll be right back, then, with a glass of water,” Emile said.

He left the room and came back as soon as he could, helping Remy sit up just enough to take a sip of water. Remy groaned, eyes closing. “I feel like I’m gonna be sick,” he mumbled.

Emile winced. “If you are, Rem, then I might have to take you to the emergency room. If you can’t hold down liquids, that’s a problem.”

Remy took a deep breath, and he looked a little less green around the gills, but not by much. “No, I think it’s gonna stay...my stomach just doesn’t want  _ anything _ right now. So it’s trying to get me to not add anything more.”

They sat in silence for a minute, before Remy mumbled, “Thank you. For apologizing, I mean. I’m really sorry about what I said.”

“I know you are,” Emile said, glancing at Remy and offering him a weak smile. “I shouldn’t have held that grudge for this long, or at least not let it affect me this much. I want to make sure you’re all right at the end of the day. You  _ are _ my friend, Rem. It just...took me a while to understand that was still the case.”

Remy offered Emile a smile. “Aw, Emile...you  _ like _ me!”

“Shut up!” Emile laughed. “I’m trying to be serious here!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Remy said. “But I don’t handle serious conversations well without a little levity.”

Emile shook his head. “You’re not wrong, though. About me liking you.”

“...Yeah?” Remy asked hopefully.

“Yeah,” Emile said. “I’m not sure if I’m ready to try a relationship again, not yet. Just because I’m still hurting, and I wasn’t even sure if I would be willing to forgive you until I walked in here this afternoon. But whenever I’m ready...I’ll let you know. And if you would have me, I’d love giving being boyfriends another shot. And not just because it means that you and I both get to say we’re taken to strangers hitting on us.”

Remy laughed, hard, before turning and coughing up more bile into the trash can. “Don’t make me laugh, Emile, it hurts.”

“Sorry,” Emile said with a wince.

“It’s all good,” Remy said with a wave of his hand. “I’m probably gonna sleep now, and I might be convinced this was a dream for a bit when I wake up again, fair warning. Just to let you know, I believe you, and definitely want you back whenever you’re ready. But I might be skeptical of this actually happening when I’m running a fever and you legitimately ignored me for a whole month.”

“Yeah, that’s fair. Rest up,” Emile advised. “I’ll be here to help when you’re awake again.”


	43. Chapter 43

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for uh...terrorist attacks. No, I'm not kidding. This one is kinda heavy. If you decide to skip, I can give a summary of the main plot point that happened in this chapter for anyone who asks.

####  **March 12th, 1998**

There wasn’t anything hugely important about it. It wasn’t Remy’s birthday, or Christmas, or any other holiday. It was just a regular day, and that was what made this so special. Toby had come home from school with a tiny recipe book which he had given to Remy. “Obviously, that’s not the end-all be-all of recipe books, but it’s something to start you off so you’re not stuck with ramen every time Mom makes you cook your own lunch or dinner.”

Remy looked at the book in his hands almost reverently, and grinned. “Thanks, Tobes!” he exclaimed. “This looks like it’ll be a huge help! Making ramen is kinda relaxing, but it does get old after a while. This will help a lot.”

Toby gave him a smile and a one-armed hug. “I’m glad you like it. Now, I gotta scram and figure out how to explain to Mom why I need a ride to my girlfriend’s house, but I hope that sometime soon we could try a recipe in there together.”

Remy was touched. “Yeah, I’d love that,” he said.

####  **September 11th, 2001**

It started with a ripple but soon tore into the entire coffee shop. They had seen it on the news, gotten a call from someone who knew someone who was involved. The Twin Towers were going down in flames. The Pentagon had been attacked. Everyone was bustling around, talking about it, trying to call loved ones to make sure they were all right, trying to get their coffee fast so they could pick up their kids from school and hug them tight and never let go. Remy’s head was reeling as he heard the news. He didn’t live near New York City, and Washington DC wasn’t a hop skip and a jump away, but it was still startling to hear about.

Startling was an understatement, but Remy didn’t have the words to describe what he felt. He scratched the back of his neck as he continued working on his shift. He had a job to do, no matter how much he didn’t want to do it. He worked and worked, making coffee after coffee and passing out pastries as needed, and he knew that he wouldn’t be able to sleep well tonight.

At the end of his shift, Remy had just hung up his apron and Emile walked in, looking dazed. He took one look at Remy and pulled him in for a tight hug, which Remy desperately returned. “You heard the news?” Emile asked.

“Yeah. Obviously, you did too,” Remy said.

“Mhm,” Emile confirmed, voice sounding small, and scared, and uncertain, and that terrified Remy to no end.

They broke apart and Remy said, “Let’s just go home.”

“Yeah,” Emile agreed.

They got in Emile’s car, but Emile wasn’t starting it. Remy looked at him. “Emile? You okay?”

Emile stared at his lap and shook his head. “This has me thinking...” he started, but stopped. “I just want...” Another beat. “I don’t want to miss my chance with you.”

“What do you mean?” Remy asked, heart starting to beat harder.

“I mean...I mean life is short, and we never know when it’s going to end. I don’t want to land in an early grave without telling you that I love you,” Emile said. “Because I do. I do love you, Rem, more than words can say. That’s why I fought back so hard when you said what you did. It hurt more coming from you than anyone else. I don’t...I don’t want to live without you, Rem. I want you by my side. And as more than a friend. I want...I want to love you for the rest of our lives, however long or short that may be. And I know commitment is scary, but...there’s no one else I’d rather commit to.”

Remy stared at Emile in shock. “You’re saying that you’d, like, marry me?” he asked.

“Hypothetically. One day. If you wanted. Not right now, obviously, I’m not proposing, but...I want to be your boyfriend, with the option of maybe, one day, being your husband,” Emile said. He turned pink. “Is that weird?”

Remy leaned over and kissed Emile softly, but with every ounce of adoration and desperation he felt combined. Emile kissed back, placing a hand at the nape of Remy’s neck. When they pulled apart, Emile lightly squeezed the back of Remy’s neck. “I take it that’s a yes, then,” Emile said.

“Definitely. Yes,” Remy agreed. “I really want to be with you, too.”

Emile offered Remy a shy smile and they finally drove home. Remy squirmed where he sat, clearing his throat. “Kim was going to be moving her practice the week after this one,” he said. “I’m not sure if she’ll be doing that anymore.”

“Well, we can always find someone else in the area,” Emile offered.

Remy shook his head. “No offence, Emile, but I think I’ve made all the progress that I  _ can _ make. At least, right now, you know? I know not to dump everything on you, and I have coping strategies for when the uh...the flashbacks pop up, and I know how to be a little more open-minded to other people’s experiences. I don’t want to rehash everything with an entirely new therapist, when I don’t exactly  _ need _ one, you know? Other people need that time more than I do, and besides, I think I’m mostly well adjusted other than a few...uh...hiccups.”

“Obviously, I can’t force you to go to therapy,” Emile said reluctantly. “And we’re not in a position where if you don’t go I risk seriously hurting myself helping you. But I do wish you’d reconsider.”

“I know you do,” Remy said. “And I get it, really. But when it comes down to it, I’m just...I know I’ve said it before...but I don’t need a therapist, Emile. I don’t think I’m cured, but I do think that I’ve processed everything that can be processed at this point in time.”

“Therapy isn’t just for processing trauma, it can help you with the little things, too,” Emile pointed out.

“Well, yeah, but what little things are there, other than our occasional fight and my occasional stress over work? Those don’t happen often, like I said, and other people need that time more than I do,” Remy said.

“I don’t want to start an argument,” Emile said as they pulled into the parking lot. “I just request that you keep it in the back of your mind. Sound good?”

Remy nodded. “Yeah. That’s fine.”

“You’re going to forget this conversation even happened by tomorrow, aren’t you?” Emile asked knowingly.

“Probably,” Remy agreed. “Anything I don’t want to address I just bite the bullet if I have to or else I ignore it until it goes away.”

“That’s not very healthy,” Emile said, voice pitched just a little too high to be normal.

“You can’t exactly stop me,” Remy sang at the same pitch.

“I know,” Emile sighed. “And I try to not let it get to me, but sometimes you really do worry me, Rem.”

“I know,” Remy said softly. “And I appreciate the fact that you care. But I can handle a lot of things well on my own, remember?”

“Yeah,” Emile said. “Although that stomach flu you had last week was not one of those things.”

Remy pulled a face. “Tell me about it. I’m just glad I got a clean bill of health on Friday. We need the money for rent.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me that money is tight, please,” Emile groaned. “I’m stressed enough.”

“Today is a stressful day,” Remy replied simply.

An awkward silence hung over them as they stepped into the apartment and put their things away. Emile came out of his room around the same time Remy did, and they looked at each other uncertainly. “We already know what’s going to happen if we turn on the TV, don’t we?” Emile asked.

“Unfortunately,” Remy sighed.

The silence took over again. Emile cleared his throat. “Want to drown our sorrows in cartoons?”

Another long pause. “...Sure, why not.”

Emile grabbed some movie or another, Remy wasn’t really paying attention, and he settled on the floor seeing as how they had yet to get a TV stand and therefore buying chairs wouldn’t help them whatsoever. Emile put the movie in and settled next to Remy. Remy scooted closer. Emile looked over at him curiously. Remy took Emile’s arm and wrapped it around his shoulder, nuzzling into Emile’s side. “You’re just a giant cat,” Emile said with a fond smile.

Remy stuck his tongue out at Emile and Emile laughed. “You even do the tongue thing! You’re a cat!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Remy said, but he was smiling and nuzzling further into Emile.

Emile laughed softly and pressed a kiss into Remy’s hair. “Shh, the movie is starting,” Emile said.

Remy rolled his eyes and rested his head on Emile’s shoulder, feeling thoroughly exhausted. This was why he was letting Emile putting on some movies and cartoons for them both. He didn’t have the mental energy or the will to watch normal TV, his brain wouldn’t comprehend words on the page like they normally would when reading a book, and he hadn’t slept soundly since Emile and him had broken up. Even when he was sick with a stomach flu, his sleep would be interrupted by vomiting or fever or chills. He hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep in a month, so having cartoons on to watch if he could even stay awake made things simpler. Easier to follow. Low-stakes games that didn’t feel rushed or forced. It was dumb, but it was comforting.

Well, no, it wasn’t dumb, purely  _ because _ it was comforting. It was why Remy reread his favorite comics, why he reread books when he knew the ending. Everything turned out all right in the end; he didn’t have to worry about the characters dying an unforeseen death or really going through anything he couldn’t handle, because he had been through it all already. He knew what was going to happen. And Emile derived similar comfort from cartoons.

...Huh. That explained a lot. And also made Remy feel a bit like a dick for not understanding that for a year.

Emile shifted underneath Remy and Remy opened his eyes. When had he closed them? “Hey, sleepyhead,” Emile lightly teased. “I need to pee. You mind?”

“Hm? Mm-mm,” Remy hummed, sitting upright.

Emile put a hand on Remy’s shoulder and offered him a smile, a murmured, “I’ll be right back,” and a gentle squeeze.

Remy watched Emile go and leaned back against the wall. He looked at the TV, which had been turned off. Apparently, he had slept through the entire movie. Whoops.

Emile walked back over to him and leaned against the wall. “Do you want to head to the shelter to help out tonight?”

“Wouldn’t we miss dinner?” Remy asked.

“There’s ways to help out other than cooking. Childcare, helping people with paperwork for food stamps and such, or even helping with finances, either the shelter’s or the individual people there,” Emile said. “Usually the childcare dies down after dinner, but when the kids’ parents have to talk about something serious, someone has to keep the kids occupied. And besides, we might not get there before dinner wraps up, but it never hurts to just talk to Bernie and see what he might need help with in the future.”

“True,” Remy allowed, stretching his legs. “I’m just not full of energy at the moment.”

“Yeah, but that’s why we should go. Most people won’t, and they might not help today, when lots of people will need help.”

“I know,” Remy agreed, standing. “We’d better get going if we want to be there soon, though.”

Emile offered Remy a thankful smile and Remy offered him a hopeful one back. They had been on good terms again, falling back into their old routine like nothing had happened. Though Remy couldn’t deny there was a certain shift in the dynamics since their fight. As he grabbed his jacket, he wondered if it was just what had happened today that made Emile behave differently, or if this would stay. The fact that they resumed dating would definitely remain, but Remy found he liked this new feeling. It wasn’t like they weren’t equals in their relationship before, but something seemed a little different about today. They seemed like...partners.

Obviously, they had been partners before. That was how relationships worked. But more than the sense of partners in crime. More than the sense of passionate declarations of love, or simple lingering touches on each other’s bodies when they wanted to discreetly show affection. This partnership felt like it would last through fights, through trouble, through any and everything. Even through a break up. Remy felt like this partnership wasn’t just something between him and Emile romantically. If he inspected it closely, he was a little surprised to find that it ran deeper than romance, deeper than platonic love. This was a bond he hadn’t experienced before. It wasn’t a familial bond, but it felt similar. Like he and Emile had somehow always known each other and never wanted to be without each other in their lives. It was cliché, but Remy could have sworn that...this was what soulmates should have felt like.


	44. Chapter 44

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope those of you who celebrate have a Merry Christmas, and if any of your family isn't accepting, know that _I_ will _always_ respect your identity, and I care about you and hope you have a good day. <3

####  **April 3rd, 1986**

“Hey, stupid! The teacher asked you to read!” the girl next to him hissed at Emile.

Emile squirmed in his seat. He was staring at the page, trying to pick out any words he recognized, but he had no idea what he was looking at. He knew it was spring, he  _ knew _ he was supposed to read at least a  _ little _ by now, but he still couldn’t.

Everyone was staring at him expectantly, and he just mumbled, “Can I, uh...pass?”

The girl snickered. “You’re so stupid,” she said. “I bet you can’t even spell your own name, can you?”

Tears were trying to force their way out, but Emile refused to cry. He wouldn’t give anyone the satisfaction.

His teacher sighed and gestured for the next kid to read his sentence. Emile rested his head on his arms. School was bad enough  _ without _ the bullies around him.

####  **September 30th, 2001**

“Hey, Remy, I have a question for you,” Emile said.

Remy looked over from their recently acquired couch and turned off the TV that was sitting on their recently acquired TV stand. “What’s up?” he asked.

“I know this is super early, and you don’t have to give me an answer right away, but would you like to come over to my parents’ place for Thanksgiving, and my grandfather’s for Christmas? No one has to know you’re gay if you’re uncomfortable with it, I can just say you don’t have a family to celebrate with so I’m bringing you to celebrate with mine,” Emile offered.

Remy gave him a confused look. “You’d want that?” he asked.

“Well, yeah, just a little bit,” Emile said. “You make everything a little more fun, and I don’t want to leave you on your own for Thanksgiving and Christmas.”

Remy looked even more lost, and Emile felt his heart ache and his stomach sink. He really didn’t want Remy to say no, and he also wished that Remy could understand why he might be wanted. But it looked like the first was a distinct possibility, and the second wasn’t. “Why? I mean, I had a bit of a hard time last year—”

“—And I don’t want you to have another one,” Emile said. “Like, I can say that you’re not Catholic and no one will drag you to Mass. You can hang out with me and my family, and if you start feeling bad you can let me know and we can sneak away to make out, or whatever.” Remy smiled at that. “You  _ can _ say no, Rem, but I need you to know it’s okay to say yes, too.”

Remy stared at Emile for a long time, eyes searching Emile’s face. Emile met his gaze, putting down the pencil he was using for copying his notes. “And we’d just have to keep PDA to a minimum and that’s it?”

“That’s it,” Emile confirmed. “No strings attached, and holidays with people who will love you almost instantly.”

“As opposed to my family?” Remy asked suspiciously.

“As opposed to spending Thanksgiving and Christmas alone,” Emile said with a shrug.

“I mean, I guess I could come,” Remy said. “Your parents would probably be all, ‘It’s nice to have your boyfriend here to help out’ at least when your grandfather isn’t around.” A beat. “What would we say if someone said that when your grandfather was around?”

“I have...no remote clue,” Emile said. “With any luck, though, that won’t be an issue.”

“And we shouldn’t worry too much anyway, right? After all, you’re an actor now, Mister,” Remy teased.

“Remy, I’m an understudy for a minor part in the local play. I went to support a friend in their audition and got roped into one myself. I’d hardly call myself proficient in acting, and anyway, while there may be overlap between acting and lying, you said yourself that I have a terrible poker face.” Emile shook his head. “I appreciate your confidence, but sadly, it’s misplaced.”

Remy pouted. “You’re sucking the fun out of this, Emile. And sapping my confidence in the situation.”

“All right, all right, sorry,” Emile said. “I’m trying to be honest, but if that doesn’t help I’ll stop.”

Remy shrugged. “Honestly, I do want to go, I just don’t want to get you in trouble with anyone.”

“You won’t,” Emile promised. “Together we can get through it. You’re not likely to mess up, I definitely won’t mess up, since I’ve had practice, and if we don’t tell any of my extended family the truth, then they can’t mess up either.”

“You’re trying really hard to reassure me,” Remy noted.

“Yeah,” Emile said. “Because I really want you to come with me. Even if we can’t spill the beans about our relationship yet. I want you to be there.”

Remy considered. “How likely is it Bernie will say we owe him if we go out of town?”

“In a serious way? Not at all. Joking? Eh, depends on the day,” Emile said with a shrug.

Remy went quiet again, before nodding. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Emile asked.

“Okay. I’ll come with you,” Remy said. “If you want me there, then I’ll be there for you. I’m not sure how I feel about the whole ‘early morning Mass’ thing you’ve talked about but...”

Emile laughed. “Don’t worry, I definitely can convince my parents to convince my grandfather to  _ not _ force you to Mass on Christmas.”

“Oh.” A beat. “You’d do that for me?”

“Well, yeah. I get that church can make you uncomfortable;  _ I’m _ not devout enough to go to Mass that early voluntarily. You won’t have to go unless my grandfather decides to be stubborn for no reason, and he’s rarely stubborn for no reason,” Emile said. “He doesn’t understand things like the LGBT community, but he does understand that religion can make some people uncomfortable, and he does his best to respect that.”

“He sounds like a good guy, mostly,” Remy said.

“He is, mostly,” Emile agreed. “He’s...he’s backwards in some areas, but he tries. And to me, all that matters is that he tries.”

“You could ask for more from him, you know,” Remy pointed out.

“But I doubt I would get it,” Emile sighed. “Listen, Rem, with my grandfather, I’ll take what I can get. It may hurt sometimes, but I try to be happy with what I can have, instead of letting myself down by expecting more.”

Remy grew quiet. “Why would you do that with your family but not allow me to do it with mine?”

“You hope for basic human decency,” Emile said. “Not just in the queer department, but in every department. My grandfather lets me have my autonomy at the end of the day. Your parents don’t.”

Remy sighed and rested his head on his hand, propped up by the arm rest. “I honestly don’t see why how many different places you’re asking for basic human decency would affect exactly how good it is to expect that from those people.”

“The more places you have to ask, the more places that it isn’t freely given, the less likely you are to have the autonomy that every person deserves,” Emile said with a shrug. “Like. It’s okay to have beliefs, but not to universalize them. Right?”

“Right...?” Remy agreed, tilting his head to the side.

“Well, the more you have to ask for your own autonomy, that means you’re dealing with more universalized beliefs. Like, your parents can go to church but you might not want to go. If you say you don’t want to go and they respect that, they’re not universalizing their beliefs. They’re giving you your autonomy. Which is your right, as a human individual, to have. That’s what they  _ should _ do. But your parents don’t.”

“I still don’t understand,” Remy said, voice strained.

“Look. My grandfather doesn’t like gay people. He just doesn’t. But if I want to marry a man, he won’t forbid me from doing it. He has his beliefs, and he will speak up about his beliefs, but he won’t try to universalize them and make it so that I  _ can’t _ marry a man. So when I’m asking for basic human decency, I’m asking that he doesn’t say he hates gay people around me. When  _ you _ ask for basic human decency, you’re asking that people don’t universalize their beliefs so that you can make your own choices. And both of those things  _ are _ basic human decency, but the morality of one versus the other has a significant imbalance. It’s worse to have to ask for autonomy than it is to ask for less hate speech. At least, that’s how  _ I _ see it.”

Remy hummed. “I guess I understand. While both fall under the same category, one is more extreme than the other.”

“Exactly,” Emile said. “That’s where the difference is. I’m...I know that extremes can be up for interpretation, but the reason why I don’t want you to place hope on your parents is because what you’re asking for is a far more extreme change than they seem to be willing to give. I don’t...I don’t want you to be hurt when they say no. Because sooner or later, they  _ will _ say no.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Remy sighed. “I guess that’s why you’ll take what you can get from your gramps?”

“Yeah,” Emile agreed, picking up his pencil and going back to studying. He had so much to do, and so little time. “I hope he gets better, but I’m not holding my breath.”

Remy stood and walked over, putting a hand on Emile’s shoulder. “How are you doing?” he asked.

Emile furrowed his brows. “I’m fine,” he said. “Why?”

“I know school’s been taking a toll on you,” Remy sighed. “And it’s a Sunday, meaning you have to go back tomorrow.”

The way Emile flinched minutely at that made Remy look concerned. Great. This was the  _ last _ thing that Emile needed. Remy being worried for him over nothing would just make them both be stressed out. “I promise it’s nothing, sweetheart,” Emile said. “I’m just tired.”

“Yeah, no,” Remy said, pulling a chair back and sitting down next to Emile. “What’s going on? You handled everything easily last year, even with the job. I know what you’re like when you’re tired, Emile, and this isn’t it. You’re not tired. You’re...afraid.”

Emile sighed. “Afraid isn’t the right word,” he sighed. “It’s more like dread, if it’s anything at all.”

“Why are you dreading school? You  _ enjoy _ college and getting to learn new things,” Remy said.

“Rem, it’s fine, I can handle this on my own,” Emile insisted.

“Will you at least tell me what ‘this’ is?” Remy asked softly.

Emile sighed. He didn’t want to say anything. He could handle this on his own, he didn’t want Remy stressing. It was a little thing, anyway. “There’s this guy in one of my classes,” Emile sighed. “We’re both fulfilling gym requirements. He found out I was bi from eavesdropping on a conversation I was having with one of the girls that we were playing volleyball with, and ever since he’s been antagonizing me, demanding I don’t look at him when we’re changing clothes, that sort of thing.”

“Ew,” Remy said, wrinkling his nose. “And you put up with him?”

“Well, I get the feeling that the gym coach really won’t want to hear that I’m bi,” Emile sighed. “He’s...well, let’s just say that sports at college are very hyper-masculine. He already doesn’t like me. Ratting out Dick would just make them  _ both _ hate me.”

Remy shook his head. “Want me to talk to this...is his name really Dick?”

“Yep,” Emile laughed. “And he lives up to the title.”

“Clearly,” Remy said drily. “Want me to talk to him?”

“No,” Emile sighed. “Because that will just make everything worse.”

“You don’t know that for a fact,” Remy said. “And besides, wouldn’t it be nice if he actually listened and left you alone?”

“I don’t want you banned from the campus, Remy,” Emile laughed. “And you’d go ballistic on him. He’s one of  _ those _ types, except you have no obligation to shut up and listen to him, unlike the unfortunate students in his classes. Besides...”

“Besides?” Remy prodded.

Emile sighed. “You don’t want to know, Remy.” He really,  _ really _ hoped that there wouldn’t be a homicide if he admitted what Dick had told him.

“Maybe not, but any information is good information when you need to knock someone’s teeth in,” Remy said with a smirk.

Emile took a breath, hands balling into fists. “He said if I told anyone, he’d out me to the more...violent homophobes on campus.”

“He...he...I... _ what,” _ Remy growled. “I will  _ kill _ him!”

“Remy, that’s not going to get us anywhere!” Emile insisted. “Except you banned from campus and possibly arrested!”

“It would be worth it if it meant you felt safe in your gym class,” Remy brushed off.

Emile shook his head. “I’m not going to get you to let this go, am I?”

“Not really!” Remy chirped.

Emile sighed. “Just...don’t french dip me in front of him, sound good?”

“He doesn’t deserve to see us be loving,” Remy said. “I’ll teach him a thing or two but he won’t be seeing us together, not if I have a say in it. He never has to know you told me. I’d never snitch on you.”

Emile laughed at that. “Thanks.”


	45. Chapter 45

####  **October 10th, 1996**

Remy spat blood onto the concrete, on all fours as he looked up at the two guys from the football team who had come over to have a “talk” with him. “What’s the matter, boys? That the best you’ve got?” Remy asked, standing on shaky legs. “Upset that your girlfriends would trust me more than they trust you?”

He saw stars as the next punch landed on his right eye. He checked out the rest of the time the two football players wanted to show him exactly what they thought about gay kids. His mother was going to kill him if he walked home with a black eye and a busted lip. Oh, well. Not like he had much of a choice in the matter. What was done was done. Mom would have to deal.

####  **October 5th, 2001**

Remy was picking up Emile from theatre practice. Or, well, not exactly “picking him up,” because Emile was the one with the car, but he was there to remind Emile that it was time to come home, have them make dinner, and then relax on the couch for the rest of the night until Emile’s homework was done and the both of them went to bed. He walked into the theatre, voice practically booming because of the acoustics, which he was a sucker for. “ _ Mio amore! _ It’s time to come home!”

Emile turned from where he was sitting in one of the seats below the stage, and waved to Remy. “Hey, Rem! We’re just playing a little improv game and once it’s over I’ll happily come home with you!”

Remy rolled his eyes and walked over to stand at the edge of the row, while the actors finished up their improv game. When all was said and done, and everyone clapped at each other’s hard work, Remy turned to look at Emile. “Now. Home?”

Emile made a put-upon sigh and rolled his eyes, saying, “Fine.”

“Oh, don’t be like that, I know you love my cooking,” Remy said with a grin.

“Everyone loves your cooking, my love,” Emile said, kissing Remy chastely.

The gagging noise that came from behind Remy at that made him turn around and glare at a scrawny-looking guy with a bad haircut and too much cologne. “That’s disgusting!” he exclaimed.

“You are?” Remy asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Not interested,” the guy snarled.

Emile sighed. “Dick, please. Not my boyfriend. You can make fun of me all you like, but don’t drag Remy into this.”

Remy’s blood boiled. “This wouldn’t happen to be the same guy in your gym class?” he spat.

“Remy, please, leave him alone,” Emile all but begged. “I don’t have the energy to deal with a fight tonight.”

“Emile, if he’s the same guy, someone needs to teach him some manners,” Remy said. “And as you know, I don’t trust anyone I don’t know to do a job for me.”

Emile winced. “Remy, please.”

Remy turned to Emile. “Emile, do you genuinely want me to stop? Or do you just want to avoid either of us getting hurt?”

Emile’s eyes dropped to the floor. “Please,” he whispered. “I don’t want to get hurt.”

“You’re already hurting,” Remy murmured. “And I don’t want to see that continue.”

Emile flinched. “Physically, I mean.”

“I would never allow that to happen,” Remy said. He turned sharply on his heel. “Now, listen here,  _ Dick. _ I don’t know if anyone taught you this, but you don’t. Blackmail. People. And I heard from a guy who heard from a guy who overheard you talking to Emile, that you’d tell the homophobes at school that he was bi if he did anything that you didn’t like, including telling someone that you were harassing him. Now, something tells me that being with another guy falls under things you don’t like, so. I have a little proposition for you.”

Dick looked angry, arms crossed, chin jutted out in challenge. He wasn’t going to back down. Remy would have found this admirable were the stubbornness about anything but human decency. He pulled out a notebook from his jacket and scribbled down the addresses of the coffee shops he worked at. “If you don’t like Emile, and your buddies don’t like him either,” Remy shoved the paper into Dick’s chest. “Take it up with me. Those addresses are where I work, and I work most weekdays and weekends. You’d be hard-pressed not to find me there sooner or later.”

“Remy!” Emile hissed in alarm. “Don’t do that!”

Dick grabbed the paper and shoved Remy’s hand off him. “Don’t touch me, queer.”

Remy saw red and in an instant his hand was connecting with Dick’s face in the hardest slap he had ever given or received. “You don’t get to use that word,” he hissed. “Not on me, not on  _ anyone.” _

Dick had crumpled to the floor and got back up, staggering away with wide eyes. But all Remy could focus on was George, and Jacob, and the pain he had felt all those years ago in high school. How Toby had came into his room that very same day when Remy was so obviously upset, and coaxed him out so they played video games until Remy spilled his guts about everything that had happened. Toby had heard half of it, but hadn’t gotten the whole story before then. And when he had found out, the comfort he had freely given...he didn’t have that comfort anymore.

He was trembling all over until a hand on his shoulder reminded him to take a breath. He didn’t have Toby’s comfort anymore, but he did have Emile. And Emile did an amazing job too. Remy couldn’t, and shouldn’t have discounted that. He forced himself into the present, into Dick’s surprise turning into pure fury, into the strength he knew he had to walk away. “You don’t use that word,” Remy said, pointing at Dick. “You have a problem? Come talk to me after my work shift. Otherwise, this conversation is over. Emile, let’s go home.”

Emile walked out quickly, practically dragging Remy along, he was walking so fast. The second they were outside, Emile was giving Remy an unamused look. “Mind explaining what that violence was about?”

Remy felt his cheeks heat up. “...Sorry,” he mumbled. “I...my emotions got the better of me. I’m not...I don’t want to be that sort of person.”

“You can’t slap people, Remy, no matter your reasoning!” Emile hissed. “Now Dick’s going to come after both of us, and it won’t be pretty!”

“Sorry,” Remy repeated. “I just...it brought back...memories.”

“Memories?” Emile repeated.

Remy nodded. “Yeah. Of high school. Of...of the last best friend I had...before. Um. Before I swore off friends entirely, with Toby as the exception.”

Emile blinked, and his unamusement melted into concern. “Remy? Are you okay?”

Remy laughed, blinking back tears and shaking his head. “My...my last best friend. Before you. Before the only person I had in the world was Toby. His name was Jacob. And he...he ratted me out to the popular kids at school for brownie points.”

“Okay...?” Emile asked. “You’ve told me this before, Rem.”

“I never told you...” Remy took a shaky breath and his voice cracked as he continued, “I never told you what it was over.”

Emile just stood there, looking concerned as ever. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, Rem.”

“But I  _ do _ want to,” Remy said, soft but insistent. “I...there was this guy in high school. His name was George. We were good friends. We shared Geography class one year. And...and I got a crush on him. I didn’t tell anyone but Toby for the entirety of that school year. The next year, I decided I trusted Jacob enough to tell him. I didn’t outright say I was gay, I just said I liked George. But it...it was enough. Jacob went to the cool kids, told them, and then they proceeded to tell everyone else...including George. Pretty much the whole school knew within forty eight hours. And...and when I found out that George knew...it was because...because he said...he said ‘I don’t associate with queers.’ Whenever someone uses that in that way...all I can think of...is...” Remy sniffled. “Is George, and his stupid pretty face snarling at me.”

“Remy...” Emile bit his lip in that endearing way he did when he was unsure of what to say.

Remy hugged Emile tight, and whispered, “It’s okay. Sometimes it bubbles up and over, but most of the time I’m okay.”

Emile hugged him softly back and murmured, “No one deserves that, Remy. No one deserves any of what you went through.”

Remy blinked and a few tears fell. “Can we go home now?” he asked. “Cooking is good, it gives me something to focus on and I’ll feel better having something to do.”

“Yeah,” Emile agreed, taking a step back and towards his car. “Let’s go home and cook dinner.”

They went to Emile’s car and Emile hummed. “You know, I might want to put you on the title of the car so that you can drive it too. It would be nice to not have to do all the grocery shopping for once in my life.”

Remy weakly laughed at that. “That  _ would _ be the reason you put me on the title.”

“Sheer spite?” Emile asked. “So that now you don’t have a reason to not get groceries?”

“I would have said sheer laziness, but sure,” Remy said, but the banter lacked his usual fondness and energy, and he knew it. He  _ knew _ he didn’t sound the way he should. But he  _ also _ knew that he couldn’t do anything about it just yet.

Emile looked over at him with concern. “Remy, are you okay? Be honest.”

Remy sighed. “Not yet,” he said. “It’s gonna take more time than that for me to feel better about what happened. But I will be. I won’t let one bad event rule over me the rest of my life. Not anymore.”

“Well, good,” Emile said. “But know that you can come to me if you’re feeling upset. If I can’t handle something, I’ll tell you, but especially with Kim having moved out of state...you need support sometimes, and I want to make sure you know how to ask for it.”

“I know how to ask for it,” Remy said. “I don’t always know  _ when, _ but I do know  _ how. _ And that’s thanks to you.”

Emile smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes, and Remy sighed. “Emile...I’m really sorry. Not only for the slapping, but for the whole thing after.”

“Remy, no,” Emile said. “What happened after was you trying to shake off something akin to a flashback. I would never hold that against you. Obviously, you’re going to have some problems with Dick and his friends, but I won’t ever ask you to apologize for crying, or for trying to explain what made you emotional, or even being emotional in the first place. I might want an apology for the things you did  _ while _ you were emotional, but I wouldn’t ask you to apologize for  _ being _ emotional.”

Crossing his legs and lacing his fingers behind his head, Remy glanced over at Emile. “I still get really confused by you sometimes, Emile.”

“Is this one of those times?” Emile asked.

“Yeah, I guess,” Remy said. “Why would you not apologize for being emotional?”

“Because you can’t help how you feel. It’s just a natural reaction to events happening around you. You can control your actions, not your emotions. I won’t ask you to apologize for something you can’t control,” Emile said.

Remy sighed as they pulled into the apartment’s parking lot. “I still don’t get it,” he admitted.

“Well, with time, hopefully you will,” Emile said.

They went inside the apartment and Remy looked at what they had in the pantry. It wasn’t much, admittedly, but with a little creativity he could probably make a nice meal out of ramen and maybe an egg or two from the refrigerator, along with some spices that wouldn’t come straight from the flavor pouch to add a little extra kick.

“Know what we’re going to eat tonight, Master Chef?” Emile teased.

Remy shrugged. “Ramen with a homemade twist?”

“I guess I can get behind that,” Emile said. “Would eggs be involved?”

“Aren’t eggs always involved in my ramen recipes?” Remy asked.

“You have a point,” Emile said with a grin, grabbing a pot and a measuring cup.

Remy took them and started measuring the water he’d need and set it up to boil while grabbing the other ingredients. “Feeling better?” Emile asked.

“Just a little,” Remy said.

“And you’re sure you’ll be okay if Dick decides to be...well, himself?” Emile pressed.

“Yeah. He doesn’t scare me,” Remy brushed off. “Don’t worry, Emile, it’ll all be okay.”

“I certainly hope so,” Emile said, starting to help Remy cook.


	46. Chapter 46

####  **November 13th, 1997**

Emile ignored the jeering in the high school hallways. The bigots were not going to stop him from loving who he loved. Just because his dating pool was twice as large as some others, they were scared of him. That was okay, though. It just meant he had a lot more power than they could comprehend.

He sighed as he got to his locker to find someone had spray painted a three-letter slur on it. “Whatever,” he sighed. “Not like it matters.” Doesn’t mean it didn’t sting a little bit. But he definitely didn’t regret arguing with his health teacher about bisexuality. He would stand up for his identity over letting bigotry reign any day.

####  **October 20th, 2001**

It was on a day where Emile was picking up Remy from work. Emile couldn’t help but wonder if Dick had planned this, lying in wait until both Emile and Remy were in the same spot so they could spend less time hunting them down. They walked out of Starbucks, chatting and laughing about something that Emile had all but forgotten about. But as they reached the parking lot in the back, Dick and four or five football players crossed their path on the way to Emile’s car. “Oh, right on time,” Dick said with a pleased smile. “These two are the ones. Aviators slapped me in the theatre, and Sweater Vest has been checking me out in the locker rooms.”

“Oh, honey, you wish,” Emile scoffed, crossing his arms.

Remy looked at Emile with surprise. “Emile,” he said in a low voice. “We can’t win this.”

Emile shrugged. “Doesn’t mean I won’t go down swinging.”

“Oh, you should listen to your  _ boyfriend, _ Emile,” Dick spat. “It’ll be over so much faster if you don’t fight.”

“You make it sound like you’re going to attempt murder,” Emile said, looking down his nose at Dick. He wasn’t quite as big as the tallest of the football players, but he was tall enough to make most people think twice about bothering him. Unfortunately, Dick seemed to be especially stubborn. And he had backup. “You know that’s generally frowned upon, don’t you?”

Dick snarled and Remy looked between the two of them uncertainly. “Look. I said you could fight  _ me, _ Dick,” Remy said. “I specifically told you to leave Emile out of this.”

“No can do,” Dick said with a false-apologetic shrug. “He’s the problem here, after all.”

“I’m the—?!” Emile sputtered.  _ “I’m _ the problem?! I’m just trying to  _ exist, _ and you’re the one who’s finding that offensive! I want to be able to go home at night to whoever I happen to love! And since I don’t love you, my being bisexual is none of your business! Nor is it anyone’s but mine and my friends’!”

One of the football players growled. “Enough chatter,” he snapped. “Square up, pansies, if you want a chance at seeing tomorrow.”

Emile’s hands balled into fists and he took a deep breath. He wasn’t going to make the first move. Making the first move meant this could be blamed on him. He waited, watching, and when the guy pulled his fist back, Emile ducked his swing and sucker-punched him. The guy staggered backward, groaning. “You know,” Emile said conversationally, “You probably shouldn’t mess with people you don’t know. Some of them might have had friends who took martial arts and taught them a thing or two.”

That only served to aggravate the others, and Emile turned to Remy, who was staring at him in shock. “Rem, might want to run.”

“No way,” Remy said. “If you’re staying, I’m staying. You’re not the only one who knows how to fight.”

Emile nodded, even though he admittedly worried. He knew that Remy wouldn’t have offered Dick his working addresses if he couldn’t fight a little, but they were going up against linebackers here. The only way to get out of this mostly unscathed would be to fight dirty, and Emile was decidedly  _ not _ looking forward to that.

The linebackers stepped forward and Emile braced himself for the worst. He wished he could say that there was an epic fight scene, where he and Remy moved in time with one another and while they did take some of the hit, the others barely left a scratch on them compared to what Emile and Remy achieved. But that's not what happened. The first linebacker brought his fist back but before anyone could fight anymore, one of the workers ran out the back of the Starbucks, yelling, “Hey, break it up!”

She panted as she ran over and scolded the linebackers. “Just what do you think you’re doing, going after two guys who are obviously going to lose to you! I don’t care what they did to tick you off, but you don’t get to go around hitting people whenever you want!”

“They’re fags!” one of the linebackers explained.

“Are they now?” the woman scoffed. “That’s news to me, considering that one of them is my boyfriend!” She walked over to Remy and looked him over. “You okay?” she asked.

“Fine,” Remy said, sounding a little dazed as the woman cupped his cheek.

“What? But?! No! No, they’re dating each other!” Dick exclaimed.

“Two guys  _ can _ be best friends without having to be gay,” the woman said, giving Dick a withering glare. “Frankly, I’m unimpressed with your behavior. Going after two guys like Remy and Emile, what’s the matter with you? They’re kind and would never dream of hurting a soul!”

Emile was catching on to what the woman was doing and he offered her a smile. “Thanks for sticking up for us,” he said.

“Of course, Emile, any time,” she said. She turned to the others, who were now getting agitated with Dick. “If I see any of you fighting back here again I’ll let the manager know and we can find out what she thinks of your behaviour!”

That seemed to successfully scare all of them, because it was no secret that the Starbucks here was where most college kids went to hang out, and no one wanted to get banned from the store. The linebackers dragged Dick off despite his protests, and the woman turned back to Emile and Remy. “Remy, you  _ have _ to stop getting yourself into trouble with homophobes, there’s only so many times I can pretend to be your girlfriend.”

“I know, August,” Remy laughed. “But thank you for doing it this time. Seriously. I was worried.”

“You had every right to be, you both would have wound up getting seriously hurt if the fighting had continued beyond one sucker punch.” August looked at Emile. “And frankly, I’m surprised that you would even fight anyone, Mister Pacifist.”

“They were going to try and hurt Remy, and like you said, they were homophobes. I don’t tolerate homophobes,” Emile said with a shrug. “I don’t think we’ve properly met before?”

“Not officially, no,” August laughed. “I’m August, Remy’s work-best-friend, and officially done with the both of you.”

Emile laughed a little. “Yeah, well, we should be going anyway, so we can get out of your hair soon enough.”

August rolled her eyes. “That’s not the main issue here,” she said. “The main issue is the both of you getting into fights you can’t win. You have to pick your battles.”

“Dick was harassing Emile, I would not let that stand under any circumstances,” Remy said firmly.

“You also slapped Dick hard enough to send him sprawling to the floor, which is probably why he brought the linebackers out today.”

Remy shrugged. “Maybe so,” he allowed. “But all things considered, I think we’re doing okay. I mean, think about it. Dick is going to be painted as a liar to the football team now. They won’t back him up when he claims that someone is gay anymore. That saves a lot of people a lot of trouble.”

Emile sighed. “That really should not be your basis of ‘everything being okay,’” he pointed out. “Just not being harassed should not be ‘okay,’ it should be the bare minimum.”

“Oh, no, that’s not the only reason things are okay,” Remy said. “But you not being harassed and being able to go to your gym class without fear is kinda...reason to be happy. And if I have enough reasons to be happy, then things should be ultimately ‘okay.’”

“I’ll let you two continue this argument without me, off the property,” August said. “Go on, off with you both. We really don’t need anyone asking what happened that caused me to be out here for longer than ten minutes. Everyone could tell  _ something _ was going to happen when Dick walked by with the football players, but no one needs to know about the details of this little skirmish, agreed?”

Emile and Remy both muttered agreements.

August smiled. “Good. Then get lost, knuckleheads!”

Remy laughed and dragged Emile to the car. Emile watched the girl walk back into the coffee shop. “That would be the August you talk about after work?” he asked.

“Yep, she’s the best,” Remy said with a grin. “Next to you, of course.”

Emile held a hand to his chest. “Oh, you flatter me,” he teased.

“No, seriously, Emile,” Remy said, grin softening into a genuine smile. “You’re the best thing to ever happen to me.”

“What, I’m your manic pixie dream boy now?” Emile laughed.

Remy cackled. “Shut up!” he exclaimed. “I’m trying to be serious!”

Emile softly kissed Remy. “I know, my love,” he said.

“...Although, if you were going to be my manic pixie dream boy, we should dye your hair some ridiculous color. Like. Hot pink,” Remy said.

“Uh, no,” Emile laughed. “My bosses would  _ kill _ me. Your blond hair is ideal for dying, but we’d have to bleach mine, let that sit for several days,  _ then _ dye it, and if it winds up being super unhealthy, I’m screwed.”

Remy pouted. “What’s the point in being a manic pixie dream boy if you can’t dye your hair wild colors?”

“Well, I would argue I’m  _ not _ a manic pixie dream boy,” Emile said. “But whatever. How about this: if I get my own therapy practice once I’m free from the whole...retail and college hell thing, and we’re still together, you can dye my hair hot pink with semi-permanent dye.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Remy warned.

Emile rolled his eyes. “I know.”

“And you still say it?” Remy asked.

Emile shrugged. “Well, I trust that you won’t like...ruin my career over it, and if I have my own therapy practice, no one can stop me from dying my hair but me."

“Oh, you have a  _ lot _ of faith in me, Emile,” Remy said with a big grin as he got in the car.

Emile also got in and started it up. “Are you saying that you  _ would _ misuse that trust for any reason?”

“Of course not!” Remy exclaimed. “I’m just appreciating the fact that you trust me. I didn’t think you would do that.”

Emile blinked, frowning. “You didn’t think I’d trust you?”

“What? I—no, that’s not what I meant. I mean...the  _ amount _ of faith you have in me surprised me. After all, I’ve done some scummy things to you in the past.”

“But that’s the past, and you’ve always apologized. Sometimes repeatedly,” Emile said. “And you don’t make the same mistake twice. I’m firmly of the opinion that means you care for me, and therefore I can trust you. With little things  _ and _ big things.”

Remy stared at him. Emile glanced over. “Rem, I’m not a mind-reader. What are you thinking?”

“I just...” Remy looked at Emile. “You...trust me. I can’t remember the last time someone did that. Not like...not like you do.”

“Other people trust you,” Emile said.

“Well yeah. Clara trusts me to not be a jerk, and Theo trusts me to treat you right, and Xavier trusts me to talk to Bea on my own nowadays. But...but you trust me beyond that. Your trust...it...I don’t know. You let yourself be vulnerable around me. You’d let me dye your hair and have it stay that color for months. You...you’re firmly of the opinion that I would never intentionally hurt you. Not that I ever  _ would _ intentionally hurt you! But...to have someone trust that’s the case with me...well, Toby may have trusted me to not hurt him, but he knew me from when I was a really little kid and had my baby blanket taken away from me so I had to rely on Bones to help me get through the nights I couldn’t sleep. You got to know me when I was trying to break you. And yet...today...you still trust me.”

Emile looked over. “Yeah, I do,” Emile said. “You’ve shown me more than enough times that you’ll always have my back. I don’t believe you would hurt me intentionally or otherwise anymore.”

“Why?” Remy asked.

Emile shrugged. “Because I love you. Isn’t that reason enough?”


	47. Chapter 47

####  **May 7th, 1995**

Remy sneered at Vanessa as she spoke. “It’s the little things in life that you have to appreciate, Remy—”

“—What little things  _ are _ there to appreciate?!” Remy asked incredulously. “Everything is absolutely miserable and everyone only wants to tear you down to try and build themselves up! It’s stupid, it’s pointless, and it means there’s nothing to appreciate! It just means that everything is going to be absolutely miserable. And when things are absolutely miserable, you can’t exactly appreciate anything except when the misery finally goes away.”

Vanessa sighed. “Remy, I know life is hard right now, but you can’t exactly do anything about it. The least you can do is try to make yourself feel a little better with the situation you find yourself in.”

Remy scoffed. “Nothing will make this better,” he said. “Nothing will be better until I move out!”

####  **October 31st, 2001**

Emile was pinching the bridge of his nose as Remy tried to stifle his giggling at Emile’s response to his “costume.” They were going to chaperone some of the homeless kids when they went trick-or-treating while the parents worked with Bernie to find housing options, and Emile had told Remy to dress up in a costume “for the kids.” So Remy had put on what he normally wore, saved a coffee cup from the trash bin, and took a piece of paper, written SLEEP across it in all caps, and taped it to his shirt. “You said to dress up as something I liked!” Remy said.

“I thought you’d do, like, a superhero or something,” Emile sighed.

“Well, it’s a little late to go change what I have now,” Remy said. “Unless of course you’d rather I steal one of your sweater vests?”

Emile turned an adorable shade of pink but shook his head. “Don’t come crying to me when the kids find you lame,” he said, tipping his cowboy hat at Remy.

“I don’t care if the kids think I’m lame or not, I’m helping make sure they get to go trick-or-treating. That makes me cool  _ enough,” _ Remy said with certainty.

“You tell yourself that,” Emile said with an eye-roll.

Remy laughed. “Listen,  _ Woody, _ you’re just mad because my costume took all of five minutes to put together and you only got yours because of an employee discount at Target.”

Emile stuck his tongue out at Remy and Remy laughed, sticking his tongue out back as the two of them left their apartment and headed to the shelter. Remy took Emile’s hand in his and swung their arms back and forth as they walked. “This should be fun, right?” Remy asked Emile. “Walking kids around a couple blocks of apartment buildings.”

“You remember how they once tried to make me a human sacrifice, right?” Emile asked. “They can be handfuls when they want to be. And costumes plus copious amounts of sugar means we’ll have a lot of work on our hands.”

“Okay, that’s...actually a good point,” Remy said, suddenly nervous. “They’re going to kill themselves if we’re not careful, and their parents will kill us if they’re dead.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Remy,” Emile said. “They kill us  _ first _ so that they can then do all the stupid things they want and kill  _ themselves _ in the process.”

“That does  _ not _ help, Emile!” Remy protested.

Emile just laughed as they reached the homeless shelter. Immediately, they were swarmed by kids who were already dressed up. “Do we get to go trick-or-treating now?!” one of them asked.

“Yeah, Dad said that you two were gonna take us trick-or-treating!” another piped up.

“What are you  _ wearing?!” _ one of the girls asked, pointing at Remy.

Remy looked down. “My costume!” he exclaimed.

“It’s just a piece of paper!” she retorted.

“Yeah, well, being the sandman would have taken a lot more time and money than I had,” Remy said. “So blame my boyfriend here. He was the one who said I had to dress up.”

“Hey!” Emile protested. “I  _ also _ told you this wasn’t a costume!”

One of the boys grinned and said, “Both of you are to blame! And you know what happens when the adults screw up?”

“Oh no,” Emile muttered.

Remy looked between the boy and Emile. “What? What happens?”

“We get to kill them!” the boy cried, before immediately tackling Remy to the ground.

Total anarchy broke out as all the kids started dog-piling Remy, no matter what Emile did to try and stop them, and soon Emile had been tripped up and was also being climbed on. Emile looked at Remy and said, “You  _ had _ to ask, didn’t you?”

A sharp whistle broke through the shouting and Bernie walked over. “That’s enough, all of you! Mister Emile and Mister Remy were nice enough to take time out of their night to take you trick-or-treating, you should be grateful, not trying to kill them!”

As the kids slowly clambered off Emile and Remy, Remy stood and helped Emile to his feet. “Well, at least my paper is still intact,” Remy said, smoothing his shirt.

“Yeah, nothing in my costume tore, either,” Emile sighed.

“All of you get ready, I’m going to bring the camera out and we can capture all your costumes so you never have to forget how cool everyone looked, sound good?” Bernie asked.

The kids all agreed and Remy nudged Emile hissing, “You didn’t say that they were going to take a picture!”

“I didn’t  _ know _ they were going to take a picture,” Emile simply replied.

“Do they do the picture yearly or do you think it’s to immortalize our stupidity?” Remy asked dryly.

One of the younger kids gasped. “You said ‘stupid’!”

“I...yeah?” Remy asked. “I’m a grown-up, I can say what I want.”

“Stupid is a bad word, though!” the kid said.

Remy couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s not a  _ nice _ word, but it’s not a  _ bad _ word.”

“Yeah, bad words are the ones you can get spanked for saying,” one of the boys said sagely.

“When do you get to say what you want though?” the kid asked. “If you’re an adult when do you get to do that?”

“When you move out of your parents’ house,” Remy said matter-of-factly. “When you can have your own place, you can cuss all you want.”

The kid’s eyes widened. “You can?!”

“Remy, if you cuss in front of the kids I’ll kill you myself,” Emile warned.

Bernie came back with the camera and the conversation was officially dropped. All the kids lined up, Emile and Remy on either side of the line, and Remy grinned as the chatter and excitement surrounding this Halloween trip grew. These kids were just so excited over getting to go out trick-or-treating. It was simple, but the kids couldn’t think of anything more cool, and it put things into perspective for Remy.

Something as inconsequential as Halloween could mean a big deal to someone else, simply because they were excited for it. It was sort of like Remy with comic books, or Emile with cartoons. They might not mean a lot to other people, but because those two cared about those things, they became important. And what was important was different to each person, but everyone had  _ something _ that they got excited over. Everyone had that thing that they felt was important. And to have those important things was vital to enjoying where you were in life. These kids...they would have every right to hate the world and bemoan their lot in life. And yet, Halloween made them happy enough to keep going.

What did Remy have in terms of that? He knew comic books, yeah, and helping at the shelter was nice, and hanging out with friends made the slow days bearable. But what else did he have?  _ You also have Emile, _ his mind pointed out.

Remy paused. He  _ did _ have Emile. Emile made him happy, and offered a new perspective on the world he hadn’t seen before. He smiled as the kids began to rush out the door, asking where they were going to go first. Emile made him happy, and excited, and made him look forward to the future, because that meant he got to spend more time with the man he loved.

...Wow, he had never considered that before.

Emile interlaced his fingers with Remy as the kids swarmed around them, and a few of the bolder ones led them out to the nearest neighborhood, debating the merits of checking the apartment buildings around too. Remy looked over at Emile and grinned. “I love you,” he said.

“I love you too,” Emile said, grinning back.

“That’s gay,” Remy said.

Immediately, the smaller kids started laughing. “That’s gay!” they parroted.

_ Shit, _ Remy thought. “Their parents are going to kill me when they learn how they picked that up.”

Emile laughed. “Time to sacrifice yourself for the cause, Rem, and be prepared to die by either the kids’ hands or via their parents.”

Remy groaned. “And just when I was learning how to appreciate the little things, too.”

They reached the first neighborhood and the kids all rushed forward, heading to the first door they saw with the porch light on. “Trick or treat!” the kids chorused as a young woman opened the door.

When all the kids had gotten candy, they moved to the next house. “Appreciating the little things? You?” Emile asked. “That’s something I never really expected from you, if I’m being completely honest.”

Remy stuck his tongue out at Emile. “Come on, I’m being serious here,” he protested. “I really hoped that I would have more time instead of being murdered.”

“Why’s that?” Emile asked, giving Remy’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Not the wanting to live longer thing. Why did you start appreciating the little things?”

Remy groaned and looked away. “You,” he admitted. “You just...appreciate so many little things. And once I can see what the little things are worth, and that they’re not so little after all...I appreciate them more. Maybe not in the same way you do, but I still appreciate them. And I’m learning to enjoy that. But now I won’t be able to because the second these kids go back to their parents one of them is gonna shout—”

“—That’s gay!” a young kid finished with glee.

Remy sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “—And I’ll see my last day.”

“Or maybe not,” Emile said. He crouched down to the kids. “Hey, if you guys keep saying that, Mister Remy here might get in trouble. You guys know I love him, right?”

The kids all agreed.

“Well, that means that if he gets hurt, I’m going to get hurt, too, because I don’t want to see him in pain. And if both of us are hurt, than neither of us can come around anymore. Do you guys want to see us again?”

More noises and nods.

“Well, then you can’t keep repeating what Mister Remy says,” Emile said.

“Is it a bad word?” one of the boys asked.

“It’s not a bad word, but it’s not a word that you should be shouting just because,” Emile said. “Okay?”

Agreement all around. Relief flooded Remy’s body as Emile stood and held Remy’s hand again. “You’re a miracle worker,” Remy said.

“Not really, I just happened to be working in-depth on child psychology this semester,” Emile said with a shrug.

“Same difference right now,” Remy said.

Emile laughed. “Oh, come on, you can be good with kids too,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, but you’re the one who understands how they tick the way they do,” Remy said. “I’d never be able to do that.”

“Well you might if you took psychology classes...” Emile said.

“No! No,” Remy said. “No, I don’t want to go back to college, Emile.”

“Well, if you decide you ever want to take classes without getting a degree from it, know that you can. It might be expensive, but you can do it,” Emile said.

Remy sighed. “Emile, college may be for you, but it is decidedly  _ not _ for me. Even if I ever achieved that pipe dream of opening my own coffee shop, I wouldn’t  _ want _ to go into business school. I know what I’m doing on that front, and besides, the Internet is free and can tell me all I need to know.”

“That’s a bit dangerous, relying on the Internet,” Emile said, as the kids kept moving house to house and they trailed behind.

Remy shrugged. “Eh, I’d make it work. And besides, it’s just a mental exercise.”

“You never know,” Emile replied with a shrug.

They went around two neighborhoods and one apartment complex before they went back to the shelter. All the kids thanked them and went to trade candy with each other while their parents looked after them. As Remy and Emile walked home, Remy brushed his hand against Emile’s. “Thanks for rescuing me earlier tonight.”

“Of course,” Emile said. “Tonight was fun. It wouldn’t do to ruin it by having you dead.”


	48. Chapter 48

####  **March 11th, 1995**

Emile was exhausted. Maybe staying up all night at the sleepover wasn’t a good idea. He had been talking to his friends, and his friends kept laughing when he tried to say something and his words got tangled. He was so tired that he could barely speak straight.

The worst part, though, had to be that he had lost his filter around three in the morning and everyone was suddenly asking him personal questions, that he didn’t know how to answer. After all, how did you tell a bunch of teenage boys that you were bisexual? How did you explain that you were a bit shy around the topic of sex and a virgin? Certainly not easily.

Emile inwardly grumbled and waited for his parents to come pick him up. He just wanted to sleep at this point. Maybe he’d get his filter back and he could avoid more awkward questions come later.

####  **November 12th, 2001**

Emile sat in the back behind the stage, catching his breath. He had to do a lot of moving around the stage even if he didn’t have a lot of speaking lines in the play. So when all was said and done, and his one performance that he was called upon for occurred, he was so breathless and his nerves were so shot that he nearly passed out the second he got backstage.

When his ears finally stopped ringing and he felt like he might be able to stand without throwing up, he saw a familiar hand enter his field of vision. He looked up and saw Remy standing there, a smile on his face. “The play’s over,  _ mio amore. _ You did wonderfully, but I want to take you home now, if that’s all right?”

“Yeah,” Emile breathed, standing up shakily. “I don’t think I’m made for theatre, Rem.”

“Maybe not,” Remy allowed. “Or maybe you’re just not the acting type. There’s more than one way to participate in a theatre performance,  _ mio amore.” _

“You keep calling me your love a lot more frequently recently,” Emile said, eyebrows furrowing. “You okay?”

Remy turned a light pink. “Yeah, I’m okay,” he said. “I’m fine.”

“So there’s no reason that you’ve suddenly been a lot more loving?” Emile asked. “I’m not complaining, I’m just confused.”

Remy shrugged. “It’s nothing.”

“You’re lying, Rem,” Emile said softly.

Remy flinched. “I know. But I don’t know how to describe it properly.”

Emile squeezed Remy’s hand and they moved out of the theatre. “Can you try?” Emile asked. “Because I’m starting to worry that you’re dying.”

“I’m not dying. Not to my knowledge, at any rate,” Remy said, scratching the back of his neck. “I...just...want to make sure you know. That I love you, I mean.”

“Rem, I know that even if you never say it,” Emile murmured softly. “Do you think that I doubt that?”

“Nn...no. No, I don’t think you doubt it. But like...for a while, we were just...loving, all the time, and nothing could stop us from loving each other. Now, though....now, I don’t know. It feels different.” Remy shook his head. “I really don’t know how to explain it.”

“The honeymoon phase is fading,” Emile filled in. “You’re used to there being big declarations of love, and happiness all the time, and everything looking and feeling great, with no downsides. Or if there are downsides, they’re easily solvable. But now...time continues to pass, right? And the declarations seem fewer, and the problems seem bigger. And the relationship is, in general, weird.”

Remy turned a darker pink and looked away. “Why do you always have to hit the nail on the head?” he complained.

“Because psychology is a lot more than head-shrinking,” Emile said with a grin. As the grin faded into a more serious expression, he continued. “Honey, you don’t have to recreate the honeymoon phase. Firstly because it’s near impossible to do, and secondly because we still love each other. I love you, no matter what problems happen. It hurts like hell when we hit a bump in the road, but we’ve made it through the bumps before, and we can do it again. And you’ve shown that you love me. Even when trying to do the impossible, you put your all into it, because you believe it will make me happy, and in turn also make you happy.

“Fact is, though, Rem, that no one can be happy all the time. We’re going to have low days where a simple word can’t cheer us up. We’re going to have days where we can barely stand to look at each other, for whatever reason. The honeymoon phase isn’t coming back. But that’s okay, because what happens after the honeymoon phase is deeper, and so much better. Because when we hit the downsides, we’ll have each other to lean on and get through them. I don’t doubt that we’ll have our fights. I don’t doubt that there will be days where we wonder if getting serious, and staying together was the right move. But I also don’t doubt that we can work our way through that, and love each other no matter what.”

Remy looked at him for a long moment, before he huffed and crossed his arms with a smile. “You’re annoying when you’re right.”

Emile grinned and kissed Remy lightly. “So are you going to stop trying to bring the honeymoon phase back? You can say you love me, still, and I don’t mind the pet names, but I want you to  _ mean _ them, too.”

“I always mean them,” Remy said, frowning.

“Poor word choice,” Emile corrected himself, “I don’t want you to constantly remind yourself that you have to say you love me, call me pet names, or anything like that. I prefer when you say it because I did something cute in your eyes, or because we’re both tired and vulnerable and want to sit on the couch together and cry over one of my cartoons. Rather than it just being something you say as a tacked-on ending to a phone call, or say to try and bring back something that won’t be able to return. That’s not to say I don’t love it when you call me pet names or say you love me, it’s to say that not doing all of that all the time is  _ healthy, _ and expected in any relationship.”

“Oh,” Remy said simply. “That makes sense, actually. I guess I can try to let it go, but that doesn’t mean I won’t worry that the spark is dying occasionally.”

“Hey, if you’re worried about it that’s a good thing. Because you want it to stay. And so do I,” Emile said, putting a hand on Remy’s shoulder as he nearly collapsed onto the asphalt. “I need to go home.”

“Yeah, you look like you’re about to pass out still,” Remy said. He paused in walking, grabbing Emile under the armpits and knees and picked him up bridal style.

Emile made an  _ eep _ noise in response. “Was that really necessary?”

“Oh yeah,” Remy said with a laugh. “Can’t have you passing out on the way to the car, Emile. I’ll drive us home, sound good?”

Emile grumbled. “I could have handled myself,” he groused.

“Yeah, sure, whatever you say, honey,” Remy laughed. “Come on, it has to be nice to have someone to care for you.”

“I mean, sometimes, yeah,” Emile said. “But not  _ all _ the time.”

“Honey, the last time I helped you was with a juice cap two weeks ago. I do  _ not _ help you ‘all the time,’” Remy retorted.

“I could have gotten the juice cap on my own!” Emile protested.

“With the rubber gripper is  _ not _ ‘on your own’!”

Emile groaned and let his head loll backwards towards the ground. “You are.  _ The _ worst.”

Remy just laughed. He squawked, however, when Emile started to tickle him. “Honey, I’m going to drop you! Stop!”

Emile giggled but let his hands drop, and he sighed. “That was not smart. I don’t have any energy left now.”

Remy snorted and carried Emile to the car. When he put Emile’s feet on the ground, though, he swayed and his legs buckled. “Woah!” Remy exclaimed, putting steadying hands on Emile’s shoulders. “Honey, no more theatre for you, okay? Not as an actor, at least. Not if you’re this close to passing out and getting hurt.”

Emile groaned and nodded. “I wasn’t sure I was cut out for the actual stage...and I was right.”

Remy laughed as he opened the passenger side door of the car and helped Emile in. “Can you strap yourself in, or are you too shaky?”

Emile sluggishly strapped himself in and gave Remy a thumbs-up. Remy shut the car door, got in the driver’s side, and started the ride home. “You know, I’m glad you put me on the title of the car,” Remy said. “Because now when you do stupid stuff that makes you almost pass out, I’m able to drive you home, or to the hospital if you’re really hurt.”

Emile just grunted, draping an arm over his eyes as he leaned back in his seat.

“Oh, honey, you are so out of it,” Remy laughed. “You really shouldn’t push yourself this hard, you know. We have Thanksgiving and then you’ll have finals before you know it.”

Emile whined, “Don’t remind me.”

Remy just shrugged and offered Emile a smile when he let his arm drop. “Hey, tell you what, though,” Remy said. “When we get back home we can cuddle all you want. That was an amazing performance.”

Emile offered Remy a weak grin. They got back to the apartment, and Emile felt slightly guilty that Remy had to help him out of the car, into the building, and up the stairs to their apartment.

They got to Emile’s room and he managed to toe off his shoes and collapse onto the bed with a groan. “Cuddles?” he asked into the blankets.

“Sure,” Remy agreed, climbing into Emile’s bed and pulling him close.

Emile hummed and buried his head in Remy’s chest. He wanted to take in everything about this moment: the way Remy smelled, like that cologne he was trying and slight sweat from the heat of the theatre. The way that he could hear Remy’s heart beating in his chest, and how it slowed Emile’s own heartbeat. The way that Remy would sigh into his hair and pull him a little closer, until they were pressed up against each other. Emile lazily put an arm on Remy’s shoulder and used his thumb to stroke Remy’s shoulder.

Eyes growing heavy, Emile just continued to savor the moment, the quiet sound of traffic outside and the ache of his bones, but the warmth of another body right next to him, willing to love him until the end of time. The darkness of the room, with only light from the kitchen moving in through a sliver of the door.

Remy took Emile’s glasses off and Emile blinked owlishly up at Remy. “Wha’ was tha’ for?” Emile asked, words slurring together.

“I thought you were asleep, honey,” Remy said. “And we can’t have you breaking your glasses.”

Emile nodded, burying his head in Remy’s chest again and sighing.

The silence stretched between them, before Remy shifted and Emile frowned, eyes squeezing shut tight as he whined and grabbed onto Remy’s shirt. “Emile,” Remy said. “Emile, I have to go to bed.”

“Here is a bed,” Emile said, weakly patting the mattress.

“Here is  _ your _ bed,” Remy replied. “My bed’s in the other room.”

“Want you to stay,” Emile mumbled.

Remy blinked. “Why?” he asked.

Emile looked up at him blearily, and said, “‘Cause I love you,” like it was obvious. Because it was obvious, wasn’t it?

“Yeah, you love me all the time, but you never insist that I stay with you through the night,” Remy said. “Why tonight?”

“I want comfort,” Emile said. His filter was leaving fast, as was most of his waking thought process. “I want to feel safe with you. I want to...to...know that you love me through more than words. I love your words, but I want to use more than just words. I wanna cuddle and show that I love you, and want you to love me back.”

Remy ran a hand through Emile’s hair, murmuring, “It’s okay, I can stay, but you know I love you so much anyway, right?”

Emile mumbled, “I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve you and your love,” he said. “I’ve done so many things wrong about us, and you, and everything...and I don’t deserve the chances you’ve given me.” Tears were in his eyes, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“I don’t deserve you, either,” Remy said. “You’re smart, and kind, and incredibly cute, and I could see myself spending the rest of my life with you, which is terrifying. I...I love you, Emile. Just...just rest, okay?”

“Mmm...‘kay,” Emile mumbled, quickly falling asleep.


	49. Chapter 49

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full disclosure, I love this chapter. And it's not even super angsty!

####  **July 12th, 1998**

“What?! No! Mom, I’m not doing that!” Remy protested, stealing a furtive glance at the girl two pews in front of them in church.

“She’s a very nice girl, Remy, and you haven’t even had one girlfriend yet! You need to learn how to treat a woman the way she deserves,” his mother said.

“Yeah, and I’m doing that by telling you no! I’m not going to string along a girl who I don’t love!” Remy snapped. “When I find the one, I’ll tell you. Until that day comes, I won’t be throwing myself towards any girl who just smiles at me nicely.”

“I think your son’s right,” the girl said, turning back towards them. “And just so you know, I already have a boyfriend. His name is Mark, and we’ve been talking about getting married one day.”

Remy turned red and apologized for the conversation, while his mom just stood there, decidedly unimpressed with him.

####  **November 22nd, 2001**

Remy was cackling maniacally as he ran his hands under cold water from the kitchen sink. He flicked the excess water at Emile’s face before taking his cold, wet hands, and grabbing Emile’s cheeks, pulling him in for a quick, quiet kiss. “Stop!” Emile laughed, shoving Remy off him. “Dad’s going to kill us both if you keep that up!”

In response, Remy just moved his cold hands to Emile’s neck, causing him to shriek in surprise and rip Remy’s hands off him. “Dad said to wash our hands, not start a water fight!”

“What your dad doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Remy said with a wink. “You’re the one who would spill the beans by being too loud.”

“Me?!” Emile asked, the picture perfect definition of offended. “I’m the one who would spill the beans?! The one who has successfully hidden a number of boyfriends from the homophobic parts of my family?! I would be the one to spill the beans that you’re goofing off?!”

“Yep,” Remy said with a grin.

“You’ve lost it, Rem. Completely lost it,” Emile said, shaking his head.

“You boys okay?” Emile’s dad asked as he walked into the kitchen. “I thought I heard shenanigans.”

“No shenanigans here, Mister Thomas,” Remy said with a sickeningly sweet smile.

Emile’s dad just stared at him, decidedly unimpressed. “Emile, what did he do?”

“Hey!” Remy exclaimed indignantly.

“Son, your smile was too sweet to be anything but fake,” Emile’s dad said.

“He flicked cold water into my face and used my face and neck as a towel to dry his hands on,” Emile said, pulling a face.

Emile’s dad roared with laughter. “Oh, boys. What am I going to do with you?”

“You could always throw us to the wolves the second we turn twenty one and see what exactly we can do on our own?” Remy offered. “I would say twenty but Emile is already twenty. Bit late for that.”

Emile shoved Remy and Remy grinned at him shamelessly. “Come on, Emile, it’s just a little fun!”

“You may think it’s fun, I just think it’s obnoxious,” Emile huffed.

“Obnoxious or hurtful?” Remy asked, smile dimming some.

“Just obnoxious. You’re not hurting me, you’re just being relentlessly annoying,” Emile said.

“Oh! That’s okay, then,” Remy said with a laugh, smile growing again.

“Behave, you two. Our final guest of the evening just arrived,” Emile’s dad warned.

Emile suddenly looked nervous, and Remy put his still-cold hand on Emile’s shoulder. “It’ll be okay, Emile. You yourself said that you wouldn’t let anything slip.”

“Get your cold hands away from me,” Emile said, no heat behind the words. He sighed. “Thank you for the reassurance, though.”

“Of course, honey,” Remy said. “That’s what I’m here for. That, and being good-looking.”

“Shut up!” Emile hissed, grinning. “Grandpa is going to question you enough already, he doesn’t need to get confused more through your unique personality.”

Remy rolled his eyes but mimed zipping his lips and winked. It sent Emile into a fit of nervous giggles. “Why don’t you go say hi to your grandfather?” Remy asked. “I can help with the start of food preparation, your dad has an extra set of hands already.”

Emile hesitated. “I don’t want to leave you, though,” he said softly. “I want to stay nearby.”

“In the living room is nearby, Emile,” Remy said. “Everything will be okay. Your dad and I and maybe you can make dinner, we can all enjoy it, your grandfather will go home either tonight or early tomorrow, and nowhere is it revealed that we’re together. Okay?”

“Okay,” Emile said reluctantly. “Call me when you need me.”

Remy gave a playful salute, mimicking Emile’s actions earlier in the day. “Will do!”

“You’re such a dork,” Emile laughed, exiting the room.

When Remy and Emile’s dad were alone, they stood there for a moment, just looking each other over. “Emile told me about the little spat you two had over the summer.”

Remy’s heart started pounding in his chest. “Yeah?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Emile’s dad said. “He also said that he couldn’t believe you were so forgiving of his behavior afterwards, and that he was so relieved that the two of you got back together. Because he’s never been happier than when he’s been with you.”

Remy turned bright crimson. “Oh,” he said simply. What else could he say?

“And I’ve noticed you’ve changed, too. You’re more relaxed, more sure of yourself. I know you have family that you miss, but you’re not letting that depression rule over you and make you throw a pity party. You’re making the most of what you have right now. And that’s admirable,” Emile’s dad continued. “You make Emile happy, and from what I can tell, Emile makes you happy as well.”

“Very happy,” Remy said faintly.

“Then there’s no worries or complaints coming from me about your relationship,” Emile’s dad said. “So long as you two make each other happy and can maintain a healthy relationship, that’s all that matters. You ready to start cooking?”

“Yeah,” Remy agreed. “Let’s get to work.”

Emile’s dad instructed Remy on a few basic things, before he apparently realized that Remy knew what he was doing, and instead flat out told Remy what he wanted in the end result, rather than guiding him step-by-step. Once they had started working, Remy began to talk in order to fill the silence. “So, Mister Thomas, we both know that you’re a sports aficionado, but what do you do for a living?”

Emile’s dad smiled at him. “Believe it or not, son, I’m a lawyer.”

Remy paused and stared. “Really?” he asked. “What kind?”

“Oh, family court, mostly,” Emile’s dad said. “So many messy fights land in my lap, but I get to help so many people as well.”

“I’ll bet,” Remy said. “That sounds really admirable.”

“Do you have any plans outside being a barista?” Emile’s dad asked. “There’s nothing wrong with where you are now, of course, but do you plan to climb that corporate ladder? Become a manager?”

“Being a manager would be nice,” Remy agreed. “I know what I’m doing, and I know enough about business that I wouldn’t run a shop into the ground.”

“I believe it,” Emile’s dad said. “Emile says that you’re incredibly bright.”

“I don’t know about that,” Remy said, blushing. “But I do know my way around a checkbook.”

“Have you considered culinary school? Becoming a chef?”

Remy shrugged. “I’ve thought about it, but I like where I’m at, you know? And I get to hang around your son at the end of the day, and we volunteer at the local shelter together. There isn’t a culinary school local to Fairview, at least not local enough for me to get to it regularly.” He sighed. “And I don’t want to move anywhere. Not at all, but especially not without Emile.”

Emile’s dad smiled. “You sound exactly how I did when I first met Emile’s mother. Headstrong, loyal, and completely smitten.”

Remy turned a bright red. “I mean, there’s nothing I’d rather do without him,” he justified. “Emile’s just...well. He’s himself.”

“You don’t need to explain yourself to me, Remy,” Emile’s dad said. “So long as the two of you are together, and happy, that’s good enough for me.”

Remy offered him a smile, and they kept cooking. They got so caught up in conversation over the turkey, that they never even thought to call Emile back to help them. When the timer for the oven went off for the turkey, Remy helped Emile’s dad pull it out, before he gasped. “We forgot to call Emile back in here!”

“Oh, don’t worry, Remy,” Emile’s dad said. “If something had gone wrong or something was a little too much for him, he would have come back here whether we asked him to or not. My guess is that right now he’s in a riveting discussion with his grandfather. Otherwise he would have asked at least once if we needed any help.”

“You sure?” Remy asked.

“I promise he won’t be mad even if he realizes what happened,” Emile’s dad assured him. “Go on and let them know dinner is ready to be served.”

Remy nodded and walked to the living room, swinging in the doorway. “Dinner’s ready,” he said.

Emile looked up and did a double-take at that. “I told you to come get me if you needed help!” he said.

“Your dad and I handled it pretty well on our own, believe it or not,” Remy said with a shrug. “He’s really nice, and a good conversationalist.”

Emile nodded. They had agreed to not bring up to Emile’s grandfather that this wasn’t Remy’s first visit to the house. “Yeah, he knows how to hold a discussion. Lawyers generally do.”

“Yeah, he told me he was a lawyer,” Remy said as everyone stood. He lead them to the dining room. “I didn’t believe him at first. He didn’t really fit how I saw lawyers being.”

“What changed your mind?” Emile asked.

“He said he worked family court,” Remy said. “And suddenly his demeanor lined up with a lawyer. Just a lawyer that works with kids more than adults.”

Emile nodded. “Yeah, he’s really good with the kids that come in there. And I don’t ever remember a time where he lost a case.”

“Oh, believe me, Emile, I’ve lost my fair share of cases,” Emile’s dad said, walking in and placing the turkey at the center of the table. “I’m not the perfect lawyer everyone clambors over themselves to get because he wins every case he gets. No.”

“Still, you win a lot of them,” Emile said.

Emile’s grandfather added, “And you managed to win me over when you said you wanted to marry my daughter, which was no easy feat.”

“No, I know it wasn’t,” Emile’s dad laughed. “I had come up with ten different points of argument to explain why I would be a good husband to her, and I got through six of them before you finally agreed.”

Remy laughed in shock. “Really?” he asked.

“Really,” Emile’s dad said.

“You both could take notes from him,” Emile’s grandfather said. “When the two of you find those girls of your dreams.”

Remy and Emile shared a glance, Emile seeming to apologize with his eyes, but Remy was just amused. Mildly offended at having someone assume he was straight, but he knew how to compartmentalize due to work. So he found it more funny than anything at that moment.

The conversation for the rest of the night was rather lively. Remy was fielding questions regularly from Emile’s grandfather, but when that wasn’t happening, Emile would be telling some horror story from retail, or his latest escapades at the college clubs he went to. Everyone was laughing by the end of the night, and while Emile’s grandfather was staying overnight to leave in the morning when visibility was better, he didn’t use Emile’s spare bed. That was all Remy’s, and Emile’s grandfather didn’t even question it.

Late that night, Emile and Remy were cuddling in bed, Emile playing with Remy’s hair. “Sorry about early dinner,” Emile murmured. “My grandfather...well...he’s...traditional, I guess.”

“Relax, Emile, I get it,” Remy said. “My parents were similar, except they would try to push me at girls, instead of just asking when I would get a girlfriend.”

“It’s still not right,” Emile protested.

“I never said it was,” Remy said. He reached up and kissed Emile softly. “But you and your parents knowing, and loving me without any strings attached is more than enough for now.”

Emile was quiet for a minute, before he said, “You know, if we ever get married, we’re going to have to tell him.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, honey,” Remy murmured.

The silence stretched between them, as the full magnitude of what each of them said registered. In an instant, both of them pushed themselves upright and asked each other, “You would marry me?” at the same time.

“Of course I would,” Emile said. “The second it gets legalized I would happily marry you.”

“I’ve considered it before,” Remy admitted shyly. “And I always liked the thought of it.”

“...Does this mean we’re engaged?” Emile asked, sounding slightly hysterical.

“No,” Remy said. “If we’re proposing, we’re doing it properly, with a ring and all. But it means both of us are open to the option.”

“Okay,” Emile breathed.

Remy kissed him. “Hey, I love you.”

“I love you too,” Emile said. “Now let’s at least  _ try _ and get some sleep.”


	50. Chapter 50

####  **December 26th, 1991**

Emile smiled, albeit a little sadly, when he saw his younger cousins playing with some of his toys that he had started to outgrow and lose interest in. “It was very generous of you to give them your toys, Emile,” his mother said.

“I figured they could get more use out of them than I could,” Emile said. “And I’m a little sad to give them away, but they’ll be enjoyed more by my cousins, anyway.”

His mother shook her head. “Still, most kids your age don’t share that easily. I’m proud of you.”

Emile ducked his head in mild embarrassment, but looked up at his mom after a moment and grinned. “Thanks, Mom.”

####  **December 13th, 2001**

It was Theo’s senior year, and as such, he had decided to invite everyone over to his and his friends’ house for a proper Christmas party the day that finals had ended. He was giving his e-mail out to anybody who would take it, saying that he wanted to keep in contact and he didn’t want to risk missing people over the course of the spring semester. Emile found it incredibly endearing, and Remy was just poking fun at Theo as he went around, passing out his e-mail and collecting the others’. Theo was laughing at it, though, so Emile suspected he didn’t mind.

“So, how did Thanksgiving go?” Clara asked, flopping down next to Emile on the couch. “You never actually told us what it was like, bringing your boyfriend back home to meet the family.”

“It was okay,” Emile said. “Remy and I were in the metaphorical closet around my grandfather, though. He doesn’t know and I don’t  _ want _ him to know, not yet. I want to see if he can be more understanding before I drop that bombshell on him.”

Clara winced. “Ouch. He’s one of those ‘fire and brimstone’ types?”

“Not usually,” Emile said. “But on this particular topic...he just...doesn’t understand.”

Clara sighed, shaking her head. “Most people that old don’t. Which is sad, and discouraging.”

“Tell me about it,” Emile laughed hollowly. “One day, there will be people who understand of all ages, but so far, I have yet to meet someone who survived the eighties who’s that old, and therefore I haven’t met anyone in favor of the LGBT community that age, either.”

Clara leaned her head back into the couch. “How telling is it that we only ever expect other people in the community to understand?”

Emile blew out a breath. “I imagine more telling than we’d like,” he said, turning to look at Clara with a sad smile. “At least there  _ are _ people in the community who understand, though.”

Clara nodded. “And most colleges are accepting in general, these days.”

Remy walked over with his arms crossed. “You two aren’t smiling,” he accused.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Rem, I wasn’t aware we had to smile all the time in order to please you,” Emile said with an eye-roll.

“Not what I meant,” Remy said. “You guys seem sad. What’s up?”

“My grandfather,” Emile sighed.

“Stressing over Christmas again?” Remy asked. “I thought we both had plans in place for if the cat got out of the bag.”

“We do. I’m stressing over the fact that we  _ need _ those plans in the first place,” Emile said.

“Oh,” Remy said softly, sitting on Emile’s other side. “Yeah, that  _ is _ a bit of a bummer.”

“No kidding?” Emile asked, looking over at Remy with a tired expression.

“Hey, it’ll be okay,  _ mio amore,” _ Remy said, putting his hand on Emile’s shoulder.

“I know that,” Emile said, putting his hand over Remy’s. “It just hurts in the meantime.”

“Could be worse, you could have had  _ my _ parents  _ and _ your grandfather to contend with,” Remy laughed.

Emile considered that. The nosiness of Remy’s mother, mixed with the snide comments his grandfather made, that would not end well. “Someone would probably wind up dead,” Emile said.

Remy laughed. “Oh, yeah. And now, because I cut off my parents, we don’t have to bury any corpses.”

Emile snorted. “Some silver lining,” he said, running a hand down his face. “I don’t want to hide being with you, Remy. I’m super proud to call you my boyfriend. It sucks that we can’t tell anyone outside my parents because we can’t trust them to keep quiet over the course of Christmas.”

Remy took Emile’s hand and when Emile looked over to Remy, he was surprised to find Remy grinning like the cat who got the cream. “What?” Emile asked.

“I’ve never heard you say you’re proud to be with me, before,” Remy said. “And, like, I know that you love me, but the fact that you’re  _ proud _ of that...I don’t know. It’s...nice.”

“And gay,” Clara piped up.

Emile and Remy laughed. “You better believe it, Clara!” Remy exclaimed. “I’m gay for this man and he’s gay for me back and the entire world deserves to know!”

“Okay, okay,” Emile said, holding up his free hand. “I’ll try to not be so down. I know it’s a time to celebrate, especially considering that most of us won’t be seeing each other for the better part of a month.”

“Yeah, c’mon, Emile, we have some last minute partying to do,” Remy teased.

Emile rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’m not here for the partying so much as I’m here for conversation. I’m boring, I know, but I just like to talk with people.”

Remy rolled his eyes and pushed Emile to his feet. “Yeah? Well, Theo’s just about ready to break out the white elephant gifts, so you’d better grab something to drink now or risk losing a prime seat near the presents.”

“I’m not thirsty, though,” Emile said, frowning.

“But I know you, love, and you  _ will _ be within the hour. Grab a bottle of water or something, I don’t care. But grab something so I don’t have to hear you complain,” Remy said with a smirk.

“Fine,” Emile said, and as soon as he moved Remy snatched up his spot next to Clara. “You’re a traitor, you realize,” he casually mentioned as he walked away.

“Hey, my lap can be a pretty cosy place to sit!” Remy called after him.

Emile flushed red in embarrassment and grabbed a bottle of water quickly, before electing to sit on the armrest of the couch Remy and Clara were now occupying, resolutely  _ not _ looking Remy in the eyes. Theo came over with the stack of presents, and everyone sat in a circle as he set them up and grabbed a hat full of paper numbers. “Let’s get started, everyone,” Theo said. “Pick a paper, and get your order number!”

He went around the room and everyone grabbed a number, and he took the last slip remaining in the hat. “What’d you get?” Remy asked.

“Ten,” Emile said.

Remy laughed. “Lucky. I have three.”

Emile winced in sympathy. “Only two presents to steal,” he said. “You’d probably have better luck opening a present.”

“Yeah,” Remy sighed. “Ah, well. Such is the luck of the draw. And this could still be fun.”

“Yeah, if you got a super popular present you might wind up getting to steal later in the game,” Emile said.

The game started with a girl that Emile didn’t know the name of opening a present and laughing at what was inside. Apparently, it was a small statue of a literal white elephant.

Xavier went next, and he opted to open a present, which was a calendar filled with  _ Garfield _ comics. “Oh, that’s a nice one,” Emile laughed.

_ “Garfield _ isn’t exactly the epitome of comics, but a calendar is nice,” Remy agreed. He hummed. “Eh, screw it, I’ll open one.”

He grabbed a tall, thin box and opened it, before laughing hysterically. He let the last of the wrapping paper fall and revealed a lava lamp. “What?! No way!” Theo exclaimed. “Who found a lava lamp for fifteen bucks?!”

“You’d be surprised,” another senior boy said with a smirk. “Thrift shops are wonderful places. Oh, and I tested it before I brought it, and it still works.”

Remy laughed. “Man, I always wanted one of these as a kid,” he said. “My parents never let me have one.”

The game continued, and a girl stole the white elephant statue, so the first girl stole Remy’s lava lamp, and Remy reluctantly opened another present. He sniffed a laugh at the tiny bottle which featured a tinier ship.

“Sick, man!” Theo exclaimed, immediately stealing it for his turn.

Remy stole back the lava lamp with a grin and the girl opened another present, a pack of number two pencils with a note that read:  _ For next semester’s finals. _ Everyone groaned at the reminder, except for Remy, who giggled maniacally.

They continued the game until it was Emile’s turn, and he decided he wasn’t going to steal the lava lamp from Remy, much as he might like to. Remy had stolen it back every chance he got and everyone knew that he was not going home without it, so they backed off him. He instead picked up a lumpy present that everyone had been ignoring, and he opened it, laughing at the stuffed dog that was inside. “Aw, this is adorable!” he cooed.

Remy had a conflicted expression on his face as the game moved on to player number eleven. Emile quietly asked, “You okay?”

“That’s...” Remy swallowed. “That’s the exact style of stuffed animal that my stuffed dog Bones was,” he whispered.

“Oh,” Emile said, looking down at the dog in his hands with a new sort of respect.

Player number twelve stole the elephant, the  _ Garfield _ comic calendar was stolen, and the next to last gift was opened: a book filled with random trivia facts that was calling itself  _ The Ultimate Toilet Entertainer, _ for some reason Emile couldn’t fathom.

Finally, the first girl got her chance to steal something, and she grabbed the white elephant statue with a shrug. “I kinda like it, it’s cute,” she defended.

The person it was stolen from sighed. “Well, I don’t really like anything else here, so I guess I’m opening the last present.”

And when they did, they saw what Emile had brought to the white elephant, which was an old VCR tape that had to be from the early nineties, featuring Disney’s  _ Beauty and the Beast. _ “Oh, that’s not bad, actually,” they said, and Emile grinned.

The party continued somewhat after that, but slowly people had to leave to get packed for the winter break. When Emile and Remy said goodbye to their friends and got to Emile’s car, Emile looked at the stuffed dog he was still holding, spying some initials on the tag. Some very familiar initials. “Hey, Rem,” he said.

“Yeah?” Remy asked.

“Do you know what happened? After Toby rescued Bones from your parents?” Emile asked.

“He let me play with Bones in his room for a while, but eventually either our parents found out or a family friend’s kid found him, because he disappeared and neither Toby nor I could find him,” Remy sighed. “Why?”

“Well, this dog has a little tag on it,” Emile said, inspecting it closely. “And it has initials on it.”

“My parents would label toys sometimes once I was around to make it clear whose stuff was whose,” Remy said. “But why’s that important?”

“Well, the initials are RSP,” Emile said. “And I’ve never seen your parents handwriting, but that seems like a hell of a coincidence.”

“What? No way,” Remy said. They got inside the car and Emile passed the dog over to Remy. Remy’s eyes widened looking at the tag. “What...? That’s...that’s my mom’s handwriting...Oh, my God. I knew that one of the people at the party knew my family, because we had talked briefly and they mentioned in passing that my last name sounded familiar and we figured out that’s where we had heard about each other, and she had a younger sister who had been obsessed with stuffed animals for a while, but...” he took a closer look at the dog’s ear. “That’s where I got paint on the fur that never came out. It’s the same dog. Oh my God!”

Emile offered Remy a smile. “You should keep him.”

Remy looked up at Emile with wide eyes. “You mean that? I don’t want to take your gift from the white elephant, do you want the lava lamp in return?”

“No, Remy, it’s okay,” Emile said, starting the drive home. “You can keep both things. I really don’t mind.”

Remy was quietly crying at this news, and Emile didn’t mention it. He didn’t fail to notice that night, however, when Remy was setting up the lava lamp in his room, Bones was sitting on his bed’s pillow. And when Emile checked on Remy before he went to bed himself, he saw Remy snuggled up to Bones in his sleep, the lava lamp emitting a soft blue glow with green lava making shapes in it.

Emile shook his head softly and went to bed himself. Maybe he was obsessed with something as childish as cartoons, but Remy never got the chance to naturally grow out of his childhood. It was sad to think about, but Emile was glad Remy could live out his childhood dreams now that he was here.


	51. Chapter 51

####  **December 27th, 1987**

Toby was standing with his back to Remy, chin jut out in challenge at their mother. Remy was watching with wide-eyed terror. Their mother’s eyes flashed dangerously as she said, “Tobias, get out of the way.”

“No!” Toby repeated, arms spread to shield Remy as best he could. “Remy’s just a kid, Mom, he didn’t know! No one told him not to touch Grandmother’s photos, and he just wanted to see what they were! He wasn’t invading her privacy on purpose!”

Remy just stood there in silence, not able to speak a word in his defense, or even an insistence that Toby not get hurt on his account. Instead, he watched this silent standstill, waiting to see who would win.

Their mother turned, leaving in a huff, and Toby immediately turned to Remy, hugging him tight. “Are you okay?” Toby asked.

Remy nodded, even as he started to shake and cry. “Mom’s scary,” he whispered.

“I know,” Toby soothed. “I know she gets scary. But I’m not letting her hurt you for something that wasn’t your fault.”

“No, Toby,” Remy said. “She’s scary all the time.”

Toby sighed. “I wish I could stop her,” he admittedly softly. “Maybe one day...”

####  **December 24th, 2001**

Emile and Remy walked into Emile’s grandfather’s house, and Emile whistled. “Anybody home?!” he called with a grin on his face.

“You’re such a dork,” Remy whispered to him.

“You know it!” Emile said with a wink.

Before Remy could escalate the discussion further than that, however, there was the sound of squealing and soon a considerable amount of tiny children were swarming Emile. He laughed and hugged each of them, naming them all without even a second to pause. “How do you do that?” Remy asked after greeting them all.

Emile looked him dead in the eye before simply saying, “Very carefully.”

The kids turned from Emile to look at Remy, and they grew quiet. “Who’s he?” one of the older girls asked.

“This is my friend Remy,” Emile said. “He doesn’t have any family to celebrate Christmas with, so I invited him to celebrate Christmas with us.”

“Does he know about early morning Mass?” the girl asked.

“Uh, he does, but I’ve talked about it with my parents and Grandpa, and they agreed that he doesn’t have to go if he’s not comfortable with it,” Emile said.

“Lucky!” the girl groaned. “I don’t like waking up early for Mass.”

Remy scratched the back of his neck. “I mean, the only reason I get out of going is...well, I’ve never been to a Mass before. Like, I’ve been to a wedding or two, but never an actual Mass. I wasn’t raised Catholic.”

“Yeah, and I still have to go,” Emile said. “Especially since it’s been a while since I last went to Confessional.”

Remy glanced at Emile. “Sorry I couldn’t get you out of the early morning service,” he said. “I did try.”

“I know you did,” Emile laughed. “But I wouldn’t want to go to the afternoon one if it weren’t with my family, and too many of our family members are visiting family friends in the afternoon for us to all go then.”

Remy shrugged. “Fair enough. Now, are the gremlins going to let us further in the house or is there a ritual we have to go through first?”

Emile laughed. “No ritual, just be careful not to step on their toes, because they  _ will _ be following us around for a bit.”

The fact that there wasn’t even a single protest to that statement spoke volumes. Emile and Remy walked further in, Remy stopping off at the kitchen to drop off the pie he and Emile had made earlier. When he followed Emile into what he assumed was the living room, everyone there who saw Emile greeted him warmly. When they looked past him to Remy, Remy offered a weak wave. “Uh, hi everybody,” he said.

There was a brief second of silence before he got the same round of greetings, people coming up and shaking his hand, explaining whether they were Emile’s aunt, or uncle, or second cousin, or what-have-you. After enough of these greetings to make Remy’s head spin, he heard a familiar voice call his name. He turned to see Emile’s mom approaching him and he hugged her with a smile. “Nice to see you again, Misses Thomas.”

“You too, sweetheart,” she said. “How’s everything at home with Emile? He’s being a good roommate? I can talk to him if he’s not behaving.”

Emile made an offended noise next to Remy as Remy laughed. “He’s been great, Misses Thomas. We both have been. It’s nice to be able to visit people over Christmas, though, even if it isn’t strictly  _ my _ family.”

“Not yet, at any rate,” Emile said under his breath and Remy whacked him lightly in the arm. “Well, my parents are dead set on having you as a son one way or another, Rem, I’m just saying the truth.”

“True, but you don’t don’t have to announce it to the whole room,” Remy said with hushed urgency in his tone.

“Remy, relax, it’s okay,” Emile said. “No need to be nervous around my family. They’ve heard nothing but good things about you.”

Remy took a shaky breath. “Okay,” he said.

As everyone turned back to the conversations they were already having, Emile’s younger cousins were proceeding to run around the room, doing anything from playing with blocks to reading. Emile and Remy grabbed seats on the couch and Remy had to resist the urge to move closer, or to grab Emile’s hand. He could really use some comfort right about now, but he knew that if he got the kind of comfort he wanted, Emile could get in trouble. And Remy didn’t want that.

Emile looked at Remy and offered him a small smile. “My grandfather is probably making his way around the room and we just can’t see him yet. He’s a quiet sort of man. Apparently my great-grandmother always threatened to put a bell around his neck like a cat.”

Remy snickered. “Oh, wow, that’s something,” he said. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard that used as a threat before.”

“It became kinda common around this family,” Emile said. “My grandfather picked it up from my great-grandmother, and everyone found it hilarious as kids, and now that they’re grown-ups they use it on their own kids, and it’s just...kinda dripped down through the generations.”

“Huh,” Remy said. “That’s kinda cool.”

Emile laughed. “I don’t know how many times my aunts and uncles would threaten me with that when I was younger. But I was either the loudest child alive or no one heard me at all. Throughout DnD freshman year all my friends would bring it up and say I always rolled either a crit one or a nat twenty when it came to stealth.”

“I’m sure that would be funnier if I knew what it meant,” Remy said.

“Probably,” Emile agreed.

Before their discussion went any further, though, Remy spotted Emile’s grandfather walking over. “It’s so nice to see you boys again!” he said, shaking Remy’s hand and giving Emile a hug. “How was the rest of your semester, Emile?”

“A little stressful, but nothing that I couldn’t handle,” Emile brushed off.

His grandfather smiled and nodded at him, clearly pleased. He turned to Remy. “And how have you been, son?”

“Pretty good, sir,” Remy said. “I do miss some of my family over the holidays, but I’m really glad that I get to be here with you and the rest of Emile’s family.”

Emile’s grandfather smiled. “It is very considerate of him to bring you here. I don’t know many people who would do that for even their best friends.”

Remy glanced at Emile and said, “Yeah, Emile is certainly a special case.”

Emile laughed and shrugged. “What can I say, Rem? Guilty as charged!”

Remy snickered. Emile’s grandfather looked between them. “You two are very close. You’re very fortunate to have such a strong friendship. I’m sure it can get you through anything.”

“We’ve had our disagreements, sir,” Remy said. “But I think they always give us a better understanding of each other in the end.”

Emile’s grandfather nodded. “Many friendships and relationships are strengthened by communication. Unfortunately, not many people are always willing to communicate.”

Emile cleared his throat and nodded. “I wish I could say I always said what I felt, but I do bottle it up at times.”

“But you’re working to overcome that,” Remy pointed out. “And I say what I feel almost too much; I’m too blunt. But you’ve helped me learn how to be tactful. We compliment each other well.”

Emile’s grandfather nodded at them both approvingly. “Well, then. Are either of you willing to help bring dinner to the table?”

Remy nodded as Emile said, “Yeah, of course!” and they got up and went to the kitchen, grabbing the plates and bowls where most of the food was held and bringing it to the dining room. When they went back into the kitchen, Remy felt his chest tighten without warning. He let out a shaky breath and blinked back tears. He missed Toby.

Emile looked over at him and murmured, “You okay?”

Remy nodded. “I can explain after dinner, sound good?”

“Yeah,” Emile said, although Remy could see the reluctance in Emile’s eyes.

Remy helped put out the rest of the food alongside Emile, and then they took their seats at the table as everyone else made their way over. Emile’s grandfather sat at the head of the table once everyone else was seated, he said grace, and everyone began to eat.

“Cousin Emile?” one of the younger girls asked, “Why do you get to bring a friend to Christmas dinner? Doesn’t he have his own family to have Christmas with?”

Remy tried to ignore the pang in his chest at that as his hand tightened around his fork.

Emile grimaced. “Actually, uh, Grace...he doesn’t have any family to go home to. I brought him here so that he didn’t have to be alone on Christmas.”

“Oh,” Grace said, growing quiet. Then, “Why doesn’t he have family? Doesn’t everyone have family?”

“Grace!” Emile cringed and turned to Remy, murmuring, “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Remy said, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Kids are curious, I get it.”

Grace, not getting an answer, turned to Remy. “Why don’t you have a family?”

Remy took a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling. He didn’t regret coming to dinner with Emile, but he wished that maybe the kids had their own table to sit at. “I used to have a family,” Remy said. “But they...uh...they weren’t very nice. So I don’t go to visit them anymore.”

“How weren’t they nice?” Grace asked, ignoring a woman who Remy assumed was her mother telling her to stop.

Remy shrugged. “You know how in like...fairytales and some cartoons and stuff, they have evil stepmothers or dads who don’t care about their kids or mean siblings?”

Grace nodded.

“Well, my mother acted like an evil stepmother, my dad didn’t do anything to stop her and if he tried they’d just end up shouting at each other, and my sister tried to help me when she could but a lot of her ‘help’ boiled down to shutting up and never saying anything or doing anything our parents didn’t want me to do. Except it wasn’t just things like not touching the stove or staying outside too long in the winter that they didn’t want me to do. They didn’t want me to play games like chess, they didn’t want me to study business in college, they didn’t want me to  _ drop out _ of college when it hurt me, and they didn’t want me to be friends with Emile, just to name a few things.” He knew his face was on fire and his tears were starting to fall, but he couldn’t do anything about that right now. “The only one who ever really helped me was my brother, and I...and I don’t know where he lives, now, so I can’t write to him.”

Everyone at the table was silent as Remy stared at his food and took another shaky breath. “It’s okay, though. Because Emile let me come here so I don’t have to be alone and I don’t have to think about how all my family probably doesn’t even miss me.”

“But what about your brother?” Grace asked. “You said he helped you. Wouldn’t he miss you?”

“Grace, stop,” Emile said. “Remy’s family is not something he likes to talk about. He was kind enough to answer your questions, but Remy knows that his brother would miss him. And he misses his brother. But they can’t call or write because neither of them know where the other is, and because Remy’s parents were bad they won’t tell either of them where the other lives. And it’s wrong and it’s bad and yes, his parents aren’t being fair, but if Remy doesn’t want to talk about it then he shouldn’t have to talk about it. He answered your questions as to why he’s here. Let it go.”

Remy turned red but mumbled a small, “Thank you,” to Emile, and as the last of his tears fell, the conversation moved on, making the rest of the dinner uneventful in comparison.


	52. Chapter 52

####  **June 22nd, 1999**

Anthony leaned back, away from Emile, who was trying to hug him. “What if someone sees us?” he asked, glancing around.

“I don’t care,” Emile said with a shrug. “You’re hurting, Anthony, and I want to make sure you’re okay.”

“You’re always so concerned for others,” Anthony said, sniffing a laugh, but his eyes were sad. “Do you ever stop to care for yourself?”

“I haven’t really had a need to take a step back,” Emile said.

“Not what I asked,” Anthony pointed out.

Emile shrugged. “I don’t need to care for myself as much as you might think. And besides, other people rely on me, I can’t just rip their support system out from under them.”

Anthony sighed and let Emile hug him this time. “You’re going to have to take care of yourself at some point, you know,” he pointed out.

“Yeah,” Emile said, pulling back. “But you’re hurting more, so you’re top priority right now.”

####  **December 24th, 2001**

Almost as soon as dinner was done, and the adults were starting to disperse from the table either to help clean or to watch the kids, Remy’s hand brushed against Emile’s. Emile turned from where he was about to follow his cousins into whatever experiment they wanted to try. Remy looked like he was about to pass out. He was tense, and his eyes were glassy with unshed tears. “Hey, I’ll be with you kids in a minute,” he told his cousins, before moving closer to Remy and murmuring, “Let’s go out back.”

“What if someone sees us?” Remy asked, even as he followed Emile through the house and out onto the back porch.

“No one will look for us out here, Rem. It’s okay,” Emile said.

The wind whipped around them as they left the porch and Emile shivered with only a sweater protecting him from the elements. Remy still had his leather jacket on, but for once Emile was jealous of him for it. “Talk to me, Rem. What’s eating at you?” Emile asked.

“I thought I was going to be okay, you know?” Remy asked, his tears starting to fall. He shoved shaking hands into his jacket pockets and looked up towards the sky, sniffling. “I thought that it might hurt a bit to be away from my family for Christmas, about as much as it did last year, you know? But...but when your cousin started asking those questions...and I’m not blaming her, she’s too young to really understand why it’s so upsetting to me...”

“But she’s old enough to know that it  _ does _ upset you, and she should have stopped,” Emile said. “What she did wasn’t okay, and I’m really sorry you had to deal with that.”

“I just...it just brought Toby to the front of my mind,” Remy said, sniffling again. “He always,  _ always _ looked out for me, no matter how much trouble he’d get in for it. I took that for granted, and now that he’s not here, I just...miss him, Emile, I miss him so much.”

“I know you do, Rem. But it’ll be okay. Maybe not right away, but I know that one day you’ll find Toby again and the two of you can catch up,” Emile reasoned.

Remy sniffed a laugh and shook his head. “The only way I would find him is through our parents, and that’s not an option. I realize that now. But it means I’m without a brother who truly cared about me.”

Emile took Remy’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “I don’t think you’re doomed to never see each other again, Rem,” Emile said. “One day, you’ll get your reunion with him.”

Remy continued to cry and Emile tutted, hugging Remy tight, and Remy clung desperately to him. Emile pulled away just enough to look at Remy and smiled sadly, wiping Remy’s tears away. “It’s going to be okay,” Emile whispered.

“I love you,” Remy murmured back. “Thank you.”

“Remy, there’s nothing I’d rather do,” Emile said.

Remy turned with a sigh to the porch. “We should probably get back in, someone’s going to start missing us,” Remy said.

“If they haven’t already started looking,” Emile agreed. “Hey,” he said, causing Remy to turn back to him. “I mean it when I say there’s nothing I’d rather do than be here for you, Rem.”

Remy smiled. “I know, Emile. Thank you.”

They both walked inside, and Emile rubbed his hands together to try and get feeling back in them, before he spotted Bailey in the living room. “Hey, Bailey! The girls giving you trouble again?” Emile asked.

Bailey looked up in surprise, before his gaze darted away. “Just a little,” he said. “I was looking for you earlier.”

“Oh? Sorry, I was out back with Remy. We just needed to talk about something in private real quick.”

Bailey shifted a little, seeming to debate something in his head, before he turned red and blurted, “I know.”

Emile turned to Remy in surprise. Remy looked absolutely terrified, and Emile knew he was feeling much the same way. They needed to do damage control, and fast. He squeezed Remy’s hand and corralled Bailey into a hallway in the house where no one would overhear them. “How do you know that?” Emile asked quietly, sitting on his haunches.

“I saw you,” Bailey admitted. “I went out on the back porch and I saw the two of you.”

Remy muttered a quiet, “Shit.”

“Remy, don’t swear in front of the kid,” Emile said, turning to look at him briefly. “What did you see, Bailey?”

“Enough,” Bailey said. “I know the two of you are together, like the couples on mom’s soaps.” Emile winced and Remy turned paler. “Don’t worry, though! I also know it’s a secret. Why else would you guys sneak out back just to hug? And I won’t tell anyone, Cousin Emile, not even Aunt Jackie and Uncle Fred.”

“Aunt Jackie and Uncle Fred?” Remy asked softly.

“My parents,” Emile said. He felt relief flood through him as he realized that Bailey thought that no one knew about this. That meant he wouldn’t ask Emile’s parents any questions a little too loudly. “Thanks, Bailey. I know that it’s hard to keep these sorts of things secret, but it’s really important that no one knows. Not even Grandpa, okay?”

“Okay,” Bailey said with a nod. “I think Grandpa would be happy, though. He always liked it when you had girlfriends before.”

“Yeah, but I never told him I had  _ boyfriends, _ too,” Emile explained. “Because he doesn’t think girls should have girlfriends or boys should have boyfriends. And since Remy is my boyfriend, not my girlfriend...”

“It has to stay a secret?” Bailey filled in.

“At least for now,” Emile agreed. “Listen, if you have any questions, you can ask your mom or dad, all right? But if they ask about why you’re so curious, say that I mentioned two boys I knew in college were dating. Not that it’s me and Remy, sound good?”

“Yeah,” Bailey said. “I know that there’s a lot of crying whenever couples break up on my mom’s soaps, for whatever reason. And I don’t want you or Remy to cry. You’re both super nice.”

And there was the kid that Emile knew and loved. “Thanks, Bailey,” Emile said with a smile. “Now, do you still need help with the girls, or will you be okay on your own?”

“I think I’ll be okay,” Bailey said. “I mean, if you and Remy need some more time alone...”

“We might,” Emile allowed. “Thank you for understanding.”

Bailey nodded and ran off, and Remy weakly joked, “Can I swear now?”

“I won’t stop you,” Emile said standing and wincing as his knees cracked.

“Fucking shit,” Remy breathed. “I have never been so terrified of a six year old.”

“He’s eight, actually, I think,” Emile said. “Kinda short for his age but not overly so.”

“My point still stands,” Remy said. “We almost got into huge trouble.”

“It wouldn’t be trouble, exactly, I don’t think,” Emile said. “It would more be...a rather colorful argument. No one would get physically hurt, although I can’t speak to psychological or emotional states.”

“I would argue that psychological and emotional states would be more likely to bring about trouble,” Remy said.

“Okay, that’s a good point,” Emile allowed. “But considering how bad it  _ could _ be? I would argue that the worst thing to happen here isn’t  _ that _ bad.”

“...You know that you would  _ never _ allow me to make that argument, right?” Remy asked. “Any kind of trouble is still trouble, Emile. I get you don’t want me to be worried, but I know both of us were terrified when Bailey said that. Even if our trouble wasn’t as severe as getting kicked out, which, in all honesty? Considering the way your grandfather acts he  _ could _ tell us to leave the party and not come back. But even if it wasn’t that severe he could still hurt us, could still hurt  _ you, _ with his backwards views.”

Emile took a breath. “He’s a good guy, Rem. It’s this one thing that he’s not great with.”

“Yeah, hon, and this one thing is a huge part of your identity and your future,” Remy said, and Emile hated that he was right. “No physical danger doesn’t mean no danger at all.”

“I know,” Emile grumbled, running a hand down his face. “But it’s so much easier for me to compartmentalize that little issue and focus on the good, at least while I’m in the moment.”

“You sure you’re just compartmentalizing?” Remy asked. “Because a lot of the stuff you say? Whether or not we’re in his house, whether or not others can hear, is the same stuff you’re saying now. It’s just one thing, he never gets physical, he’s genuinely a good guy. You’re trying to repress your pain, Emile, and if I don’t get to do that, than neither do you.”

“Listen,” Emile said. “I can’t just  _ cry _ whenever I enter a room and he mentions something homophobic. And you know what I tend to do when the pain gets too overwhelming? I  _ cry. _ Yeah, what he says hurts me. It hurts me more when he says it than when anyone else does. Anyone else I can just shrug it off. The other people who would judge me for being bi aren’t that close to me. Even the other homophobes in my family don’t matter as much, because they didn’t try to get to know me from such a young age. But my grandfather and I bonded a lot over my twenty years of life. Same with my grandmother, except she’s not alive anymore to keep my grandfather in check if he says something hateful. What he says  _ matters _ to me, because I care about him and what he thinks of me. Which means I might need only a single comment from him to make the waterworks start if I don’t repress it.”

“Then leave the room and let yourself cry, Emile!” Remy exclaimed in a harsh whisper. “Because you can’t just repress your feelings on this matter, and if you refuse to acknowledge them even when it’s safe to cry over it, then you’re not compartmentalizing. You’re repressing.”

“Remy, I promise you, it’s not as bad as it seems,” Emile reasoned.

Remy took a deep breath, putting his hands in a prayer position in front of his mouth, and Emile braced himself for the inevitable onslaught of whatever Remy was about to say. “I’ll let myself cry without beating myself up if you allow yourself to cry when your grandfather hurts you,” Remy said.

That...was unexpected. “Why?” Emile asked.

“Because you need to allow yourself to cry every once in a while. You can’t repress all the bad feelings, Emile, that’s how you end up trying to hurt yourself. You talk out the little things, but not the big ones. And if you let yourself feel the big ones, you’ll feel a lot better. Not to mention, that if you let yourself cry every once in a while it tells  _ me _ that crying isn’t something I need to hide, or be ashamed of. Two birds, one stone.”

Emile considered. Remy had a point. And he had been trying to get Remy to beat himself up less over crying. Which is probably why Remy was using this as leverage now, the conniving man that he was. “Okay,” Emile said. “Tonight, when we’re in our guest room, you can force me to decompress and I can help you handle how much you miss Toby in the late hours of the night. Don’t pretend you don’t lie in bed awake at night sometimes wondering where he is, because you’ve told me you do as much.”

Remy stuck his hand out and quietly said, “Deal.”

Emile shook his hand and they held onto each other just for a moment, just to feel that connection, before Emile’s cousins spotted him and rushed over to wrap him into the experiment they had been trying earlier.


	53. Chapter 53

####  **July 27th, 2001**

“This is homophobia, pure and simple,” Emile huffed, staring at the queue on the screen of who was allowed to go on a free computer.

Remy turned to Emile in confusion. “What?” he asked. “Waiting for a computer isn’t homophobic, it’s just a pain.”

“It’s a pain that I, a bisexual man, am having to endure, and as such I’m deeming it homophobia,” Emile said with conviction.

“So wait,” Remy said. “You’re saying that anything that’s a mild inconvenience to you is homophobic?”

“That’s the joke, Rem, yeah,” Emile said with a nod.

“Oh! Oh, that’s actually kinda funny,” Remy said, smiling as he finally realized it was a joke. “I thought you were serious there for a second.”

“Nah,” Emile said with a grin. “I’m just a goofball.”

“You’re  _ my _ goofball,” Remy corrected.

####  **December 31st, 2001**

Remy wasn’t crying. Nope, he wasn’t crying at all. There was no way he was shedding even a single tear as Emile had managed to rope his entire family into singing “Happy Birthday” to Remy while they waited for the New Year’s ball to drop. Especially considering the fact that Emile had given him a tight hug in front of everyone and no one protested. Nope, he was not crying at all.

...Okay, maybe he was crying a little. But who could blame him? Emile was the sweetest man alive, and his family was pretty cool, too.

When the whole family had finished singing, Remy wiped at the totally-not-there tears and gave everyone a smile. “Thanks, guys!” he exclaimed. “No one’s made that big of a deal out of my birthday in a hot minute!”

“Well, then I’ll make sure every year from this point forward we celebrate with my family,” Emile said. “Because we always make sure that birthdays are celebrated.”

“It’s not that it  _ wasn’t _ celebrated,” Remy said. “It just...wasn’t made this big of a deal. We had cake on New Year’s Eve as we waited for midnight, and I got a few gifts, but that was it.”

“Oh! That reminds me!” Emile said, perking up and heading to where the Christmas tree was still set up in the corner. He grabbed a lone present beneath it and brought it back over to Remy. “I know that this might not be a  _ huge _ help to you, but I figured it’s a springboard for when we get back home.”

“O...kay...?” Remy said. He tore the paper off and laughed when he saw what was inside. “Oh, nice! I haven’t had a good cookbook in a while! A lot of the spice ratios are off in them, in my experience, but I can figure those out on my own soon enough.”

Emile grinned. “I was hoping you’d like it!” he chirped. “I know that you often make your own recipes, but hopefully this gives you new ideas.”

“Oh yeah, for sure!” Remy said. “I can’t wait to experiment on you with my cooking!”

Emile laughed in good-natured way. “I’m sure you’ll create near perfect recipes outside of that book in no time.”

“I don’t know about  _ perfect,” _ Remy said with a laugh. “But I can make some good ones, for sure.”

Emile grinned and the two of them sat back down in the chairs they had pushed next to each other to watch the ball drop. Remy idly flipped through the pages of his new cookbook, already planning out what new recipes he might be able to try. Emile’s hand brushed against Remy’s and Remy smiled. Maybe they couldn’t be openly affectionate around Emile’s grandfather, but no one was paying attention to them, so the little gestures didn’t matter that much. Remy sniffed a laugh as he flipped to the end. “There’s no dessert section.”

“Hm?” Emile asked.

“There’s no dessert section in the book,” Remy snickered. “Granted, it is a  _ cookbook, _ so I wasn’t expecting many  _ baking _ recipes, but there’s not even a single cookie recipe! This is homophobia in its purest form!”

Emile snickered before a confused voice made them both freeze. “What about that is homophobia?” Emile’s grandfather asked.

Remy looked between Emile and Emile’s grandfather with increasing panic. “Uh...it’s just...uh...”

“It’s a joke, Grandpa,” Emile said. “It’s a joke some of our friends at college would make.”

“What’s homophobia?” one of Emile’s cousins asked.

The one that Remy remembered was Bailey, said, “It’s when someone doesn’t like gay people.”

“But why would no cookies be homophobia?” the first cousin asked. “Cookies don’t have anything to do with gay people.”

A few people in Emile’s family were sending Remy looks, some of them rather dirty ones, while a few others were confused. But the scariest ones, were the ones from people who  _ knew _ what Remy had meant. They  _ knew _ that he was gay. And it wouldn’t take them long to figure out that Emile was dating Remy, and that’s why Remy came over.

“Emile, you know that being gay is a sin,” Emile’s grandfather said. “You can’t make those sorts of jokes.”

Remy flinched and Emile actually  _ growled. _ “I disagree,” Emile said.

The whole room went silent. “...What?” Emile’s grandfather asked.

“I disagree,” Emile repeated. “I disagree that being gay is a sin. And I disagree that making those sorts of jokes are sinful. I don’t care if anyone who I hang out with is gay, straight, bi, whatever. It’s none of my business to ask them, and it’s unfair to say we couldn’t be friends just because of their orientation.”

Emile’s grandfather was actually  _ glaring _ at Emile, and Emile just stared neutrally back. The hair on the back of Remy’s neck stood on end. “Let’s just forget about this,” Remy said. “I won’t say it again, cross my heart and hope to die.”

“Is  _ he _ gay?” Emile’s grandfather asked, pointing at Remy.

“Grandpa! You can’t ask that!” Emile exclaimed. “Whether he is or not is nobody’s business but his, and it should be  _ his _ choice as to whether or not he tells anyone whether he is or not!”

“Tell me,” Emile’s grandfather demanded.

“No!” Emile snapped.

Emile’s grandfather gave him a warning glare. “Emile—”

“—Do you want to know where he picked that joke up?!” Emile asked, standing up. “Do you want to know why I feel the way I do about gay people?!”

The whole room was silent, still, and Remy’s gaze briefly flicked over to Emile’s parents, who were watching this unfold with morbid fascination. One of Emile’s cousins, Remy thought it might have been Grace, asked the question. “...Why?”

“Because I. Am. Bisexual,” Emile ground out. “And no, before you ask, Remy and I do not do anything intimate like  _ that _ behind closed doors. But even if we did, it would be none. Of. Your. Business! Remy is my roommate! He picked up a few of my jokes because that’s just what friends  _ do!” _

“Emile,” Remy said.

“No! I’m not done!” Emile exclaimed.

“Emile!” Remy said, with more force. “Stop throwing yourself under buses for my sake. You did that with my mother, I won’t let you do that here.”

The final countdown to the new year started on the TV, and Remy stood, leaving the cookbook on the chair he had just vacated. “Your grandson  _ is _ bisexual, he wasn’t lying about that. And we  _ are _ friends,” Remy said. The countdown was the only sound filling the room. Three...two...one...And as they rang in the New Year, Remy kissed Emile, before turning to Emile’s grandfather with a scowl. “But we’re  _ also _ dating. And if you have a problem with that, fine, I’m leaving tomorrow morning and you’re free to not invite me back. I had my doubts about this whole thing anyway, just  _ knowing _ that we’d have to hide this around you. Emile assured me that it wouldn’t get out, and maybe that went out the window, but Emile kept up his end of the agreement for me coming here: he kept his mouth shut.  _ I _ outed  _ myself. _ And yes, I love him! And yes, I’m not religious! And I know both of those things might be problems in your eyes! But I don’t care! I’m not letting Emile go down as the bad guy in your books without me being there with him! I’m willing to go to the end of the line with him, which is a lot more than most straight  _ marriages _ have going for them. I love your grandson, and he loves me, and if you have a problem with that? Well, then that’s  _ your _ problem! Because you can’t exactly stop us from loving each other!” He picked up his cookbook and swiped at the tears that were starting to fall. “Do you still want me in our guest room?” he asked Emile. “I’m kinda furious right now.”

“Rem, I don’t care. You have every right to feel that way,” Emile said, looking over at his grandfather with a scowl. “I'll be right up. I have to talk to Mom and Dad first.”

Remy nodded, and gave one last look to Emile’s relatives, specifically the ones that were giving him looks of disgust. “And no, everyone, there will  _ not _ be any extracurricular activities going on in the room next to you! You will not have to  _ hear _ us be gay!”

He turned on his heel and stormed out of the room, down the hall, up the stairs, and into the guest room he and Emile were sharing before. He flopped down on the bed they had shared to cuddle and stared at the sleeping bag on the floor that Emile had insisted on using last night. When Emile walked in ten minutes later, Remy said, “You’re not using the sleeping bag tonight.”

“What?” Emile asked.

“I want you to sleep with me,” Remy said.

Emile laughed incredulously. “You what?”

Remy rolled his eyes. “Get your mind out of the gutter. I want to share a bed with you. Not have sex.”

Emile blinked. “What brought this on?”

“I don’t want to be alone,” Remy said, reaching out for Emile. “Come on. We’re two grown men, but this is a full bed. It might be a tighter squeeze, but we’ll fit.”

“And it’s no worse than either of our beds back home,” Emile said, coming over and taking off his glasses, laying down next to Remy.

Remy shifted and put the cookbook next to Emile’s glasses on the nightstand. “I really wish that we didn’t have to always progress our relationship and let people know about it through conflict.”

Emile laughed. “Agreed,” he said softly. “But I like to think that at some point we’ll have it together enough and enough people will know that it won’t be an issue anymore.”

Remy sighed and Emile mirrored the action, somewhat shakily. “Your parents okay?” Remy asked.

“Yeah,” Emile said, but his voice was thick. “They...uh...they said they would support whatever decisions I made after tonight, and Dad said he’d try to talk to Grandpa. Mom offered to talk to her siblings who were giving you dirty looks. All my cousins understand we’re together, the most confusion I got from them was a couple of them asking why dating boys wouldn’t be okay as a boy, or why people  _ thought _ that. Because I think the ones from my more open aunts and uncles will be teaching the ones who were raised by more conservative parents that it’s okay to be gay.” He made a choked sound. “But my grandfather refused to even look at me after you left. It was like all of a sudden I didn’t exist.”

Remy’s heart ached. “I know the feeling,” he said softly. “I got that almost every single time I ‘acted out’ in my parents’ or grandparents’ eyes.”

“I don’t like it,” Emile whimpered. “I didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t do anything wrong!”

“No you didn’t, honey,” Remy said, pulling Emile close and hugging him fiercely as he cried. “You didn’t do anything that you weren’t supposed to. I’m the one who made the joke that caused this whole scene in the first place. Your grandfather is the one who’s acting like a bigot. All you did was try to defend me. Nowhere in this is anything your fault.”

Emile buried his head in the crook of Remy’s neck. “Then why am I the one in trouble?”

Remy sighed. “Because, just like with my parents, your grandfather is lashing out at what he doesn’t agree with, and doesn’t understand. It’s not even remotely okay, and he ought to be ashamed of himself. But you can get through this. You have your parents, and your friends, and me, and some of your extended family behind you. If I could make it through with only Toby, then I don’t doubt that you can make it through with the support you have.”

Emile shook his head, breathing out, “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I know you didn’t,” Remy said, shushing him.

And with that, the two held each other close until they both fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know y'all are probably gonna be up in arms over this chapter, but Emile's grandfather will not be dying before this story ends, because I have PlansTM for him still. If you're curious, I can talk a little bit about what's going to happen without spoilering the entire story.


	54. Chapter 54

####  **December 15th, 2000**

Emile heard some sort of sniffling coming from Remy’s room as he went to the kitchen, and he paused just before his feet hit the tile. Did he check on Remy? The move had been a bit of a culture shock for both of them, was Remy dealing with the after effects of that? Or was something else at play? Was he having a panic attack? Problems with intrusive thoughts?

Shaking his head, Emile decided it was probably best not to pry. He went to the kitchen, quietly opening a cupboard and grabbing a glass, before going to the sink and filling it with water. When he turned off the faucet, the sniffling had stopped, and Emile knew that Remy was awake, if only because he would have continued making that noise had he been doing it in his sleep. Did Emile say anything?

He drank his glass of water and put it in the sink to wash tomorrow. He didn’t want to pry into Remy’s private life. He’d leave it be, and if Remy were miserable in the morning, Emile would ask gently then.

####  **January 13th, 2002**

Emile knew that he was much more subdued after they had returned home from his grandfather’s. He knew that Remy was worried they had made a mistake, no matter how many times Emile insisted he would have rather had that fight than have Remy stuck at home alone. Even if it was true. Because he wouldn’t want Remy to be alone over the holidays.

Now they didn’t have to worry about staying in the closet next year’s holidays, because it was highly unlikely either of them would be invited over again. And Emile resisted the urge to cry over that, but it always made his throat feel like closing up and his eyes get glassy. Remy had told him some more specific things his parents had done whenever Emile got really upset, always ending it with, “I know how bad it hurts,” or “I feel your pain,” and it made Emile sad to no end that Remy had to deal with this on a much more frequent basis for most of his life but  _ Emile _ was the one whining and crying over his grandfather.

Remy always told him that he had the right to be upset, and Emile knew that was true, but he didn’t feel like he should be  _ moping _ about it this much. He didn’t want to be sad the rest of his life over this one confrontation. He knew that his grandfather would have found out sooner or later, if he lived for a few more years it would be near-impossible to hide the fact that Remy was his boyfriend, especially since Emile wouldn’t be bringing anyone else home. He had just hoped...he didn’t know what he had hoped for. He supposed he just hoped that on this one issue, this one personal instance, where his grandfather actually  _ knew _ the person who he was spouting hate against, that he would change his mind. But that didn’t happen. And Emile suspected it never would.

But why should his mourning period be taking so long, and be this hard-hitting? Remy didn’t have this many issues when he moved out and went against his own parents’ wishes. Why was Emile the one struggling so much?

They were sitting on the couch after one particularly long day when Emile vocalized this to Remy. Remy looked stricken. “Emile...my family sucked, yeah, but it was by no means easy to move out of college and settle down here with you. You might not have seen it, but there would be times in my room that my hands would shake uncontrollably, or I’d randomly burst into tears trying to fall asleep. Because it would hit me that the people who I had trusted to care for me had not only failed, but failed so badly that I had to cut off all ties to them if I wanted any hope of being able to move forward with my life. And your grandfather...you knew that he had those views, yeah, but he never directly tried to attack you before, and he showed you love my parents never did. I went through it for a longer time, but you received the damage from somebody who you deeply cared about and got love from. I think that all evens out, more or less. You’re allowed to mourn however long you need to. I know I made it look easy, but that’s because I was too stubbornly proud to show how hurt I was feeling, to anyone except Kim.”

Emile sighed. “I know that I can take as long as I need, but I thought it would be easier. If I ever came across a homophobe before, all I’d need is like...three days to get over it, if they were close to me. This just...isn’t going away.”

“Emile, it’s been all of what, two weeks? If that. It’s going to take more than two weeks to get over your family betraying you. I  _ knew _ my family was trying to kill me and it took at least a month for me to fall asleep without any shaking or crying when I remembered how my family acted,” Remy advised. “Seriously,  _ mio amore, _ go easy on yourself.”

“I just...”

“I know,” Remy said, grabbing Emile’s hands in earnest and looking at Emile with pleading in his eyes. “I know you feel like you should be stronger. But you don’t have to be. Even training to be a therapist, you’re going to be affected by personal stories from people you’re close to, because therapy is meant to be objective and done by strangers. Please, just go easy on yourself, for once. Don’t beat yourself up over what is essentially mourning the loss of a family member.”

Emile shook his head and couldn’t help the fond smile on his face. “You sound like me, you realize.”

Remy turned red and took his hands back, leaning away. “Sorry.”

“No, don’t be,” Emile said. “You’re right, and you should say it, because I needed that reminder. Sounding like me isn’t a bad thing, it means you’re looking at this at least mostly rationally, and you’re looking out for my well being.”

“Oh,” Remy said. “Are you going to continue to beat yourself up?”

“I’ll try not to,” Emile sighed. “But it’s not going to be easy, and I know it won’t be easy.”

“Of course it won’t be easy,” Remy said. “Not beating yourself up over something you’re self-conscious about is really hard. But you need to let yourself feel the pain, because otherwise you’re going to bottle it up, and I don’t want us landing in another fight all because your feelings couldn’t be held back anymore.”

Emile sniffed a laugh. “Oh, so you’re still doing this for selfish reasons, here I was worried for a second that you might be genuinely concerned and I had reason to be scared.”

“I mean,” Remy shrugged and chewed over his words. “I’m definitely genuinely concerned. But me being concerned doesn’t mean you have to be scared. I’ve started to care and express concern over a lot of smaller things, lately, though you haven’t really noticed, at least not actively. But I’m no longer only concerned with life-or-death situations. I can care about you without you dying.”

Emile blinked. “Come to think of it, yeah, you’ve been asking if I’m okay a lot more often and you’re trying to think one step ahead of me so you’re ready if I ask you to do something. Any reason for that?”

Remy shrugged. “I mean, part of it is definitely me trying to make sure that you don’t have a mental breakdown over something like not being able to find your coat because that’s the straw that broke the camel’s back. But also...I just want to make sure that you’re happy. For no other reason than I want you to be happy.”

Emile made a  _ huh _ noise. “That...that’s really sweet, Rem.”

“Yeah, well, I figured that if we’re gonna be together, I’m gonna do my part to make sure that you’re okay, like you’ve done your part in looking out for me,” Remy said. “I had been lacking in that category for a while and I want to make that right.”

“There’s nothing you really have to  _ make right, _ Rem, we already made up after that fight.”

“Yeah, but...but I still want to look out for you. And in my experience, people usually don’t appreciate that without a good reason,” Remy shrugged.

Emile felt his heart warm and he grinned. “You love me, Rem, and that’s reason enough.”

“Yeah?” Remy asked.

Emile kissed him for a brief second. “Yeah.”

Remy grinned and pulled Emile back for a deeper kiss, mussing Emile’s hair and rumpling his shirt a little bit...right before there was a knock at the door. “I’ll get that,” Emile said, climbing out from under Remy and answering the door. “Hey, Grace. Did you need something?”

“Roy wanted to know if you happened to know a good gardening store around. He was looking for some new flowers,” Grace said, looking him over critically. “You and your...boyfriend haven’t been up to anything, have you?”

It was that moment that Remy called, “Emile, come back to bed!” No doubt he had heard the whole conversation.

“Remy!” Emile scolded, trying not to laugh at how red Grace’s face became. “Behave!”

Remy let out a put-upon sigh and said, “Yes,  _ sir,” _ and oh, boy, was Emile going to kill him.

Emile turned back to Grace. “I’m sorry, I don’t know any shops good specifically for gardening. Remy might know a few places around, but we haven’t gotten around to picking a place to invest in seeds yet. If you want, though, we could talk to Roy later about it?”

“No, thank you,” Grace said, still thoroughly red and her words clipped and short. “I’ll ask the other neighbors. You two just...just...”

“Don’t worry, we’ll enjoy each other’s company,” Emile said with a snicker as he closed the door. The second he leaned against it Remy came around the corner, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “Remington Samuel Picani, I will  _ kill _ you!” he hissed.

“Come on, it was funny!” Remy laughed.

“We haven’t even talked about boundaries for sex, yet, and you make those sorts of jokes?!” Emile asked incredulously.

“Speaking about boundaries for—”

“—Stop,” Emile said, holding up a hand. “I’ve been wanting to have that conversation, too, but not immediately after you called me ‘sir’ in front of one of our very conservative neighbors. I nearly had a heart attack.”

Remy sighed and pursed his lips, but soon was grinning again. “It was totally funny, though.”

Emile took a deep breath. “I’m going to  _ kill _ you.”

“Kinky,” Remy said with a wink.

“Stop!” Emile exclaimed. “Right now! Stop it!”

Remy laughed but held up his hands in surrender. “Got your mind off it, though, didn’t I?”

Emile frowned and thought back to their conversation before humming his understanding. “Yeah, however briefly. Though the part about you loving me is not something I want to forget.”

“Whatever, you sap,” Remy said with an affectionate smile.

Emile sighed through his nose, shaking his head. “Rem, you’re going to be the death of me.”

“Oh, you know you wouldn’t have it any other way,” Remy said with a wink.

“No, I wouldn’t, but I’d still rather not die in general,” Emile replied.

Remy cracked a grin. “Me neither. But do you know what I  _ do _ want to do?”

“What?” Emile asked.

Remy crossed the apartment in seconds and kissed Emile for a good half a minute. Emile opened his eyes after the kiss dazedly to find Remy grinning at him. “You’re evil when you do that,” Emile protested.

Remy shrugged, grinning wider. “But you look so pretty when I kiss you,” he said. “All blushy and shy, and operating on a slight delay after I deliver a particularly good kiss.”

“Shut up,” Emile said with a laugh.

Remy’s grin turned into a soft smile. “Promise me you won’t beat yourself up,” he whispered. “I know you said you wouldn’t, but I want you to promise that you’ll work against that impulse.”

Emile didn’t really see where this conversation might be going, but he nodded. “I promise I’ll work on correcting myself when I start to blame myself for things out of my control.”

Remy’s shoulders sagged in relief and his smile looked almost sad, but mostly relieved. “Good.”

“Can I ask...why? You’re so insistent on that?” Emile asked.

Remy chewed his lip and stared at the floor, scuffing his feet. He looked around, as if to make sure no one else was in the room, that it was just them in this moment. Then, he moved forward and wrapped Emile in a tight hug, and Emile hugged him back. Emile was about to say that Remy didn’t need to answer him, that he could take the question back and they could drop it, when Remy whispered, “Because sometimes I still blame  _ myself, _ even now.”


	55. Chapter 55

####  **March 10th, 1994**

Remy sighed as the kids around him snickered as he walked past. He was pretty much used to it by now, and high school was right around the corner, he just had to hold out hope that everyone would mellow out once they got to freshman year. Until then, he’d suffer the last few months of middle school, and keep his mouth shut around Mom when she asked him how school was. No one wanted to hear about the kids calling him “Dumbo,” and she  _ definitely _ wouldn’t want to hear about the meaner bullies calling him “rat face.”

Just a few more months, he reminded himself as one of the other kids tripped him up in the hallways and they laughed with their friends. A few more months and he’d be off for the summer, where he didn’t have to interact with any of his bullies. He’d be able to play video games with Toby all day, or at least until Mom made them go outside. And, if he was really lucky, maybe he’d get a little less ugly over the summer, so he couldn’t be picked on for his looks anymore.

####  **January 26th, 2002**

It was just supposed to be a normal date night, and Remy had no idea how they had gotten this far off the beaten path. They had a little extra money this month, enough to go to a local art museum that had just opened. Emile had gotten a small sketchbook recently and Remy thought it might be nice to give him something to sketch on a Saturday night. What Remy hadn’t taken into account was that Emile had worked three night shifts in a row restocking shelves and taking classes during the day, so he was incredibly sleep deprived and now giggling like he was tipsy.

Remy was looking at one of the paintings, featuring a child chasing after a bluejay. Emile was behind him, on one of the benches, giggling like a mad man as he sketched. Emile had told Remy to stay in the same room as he was while he sketched, but Remy could be doing anything he wanted in the room. Emile just didn’t want to look up and find Remy gone. Which Remy respected. Emile was sleep deprived and he had seen the man burst into tears when he couldn’t find a cartoon he was looking for with just one more night shift in a row than what he had agreed to this week. And losing sight of Remy, for some weird reason, was more traumatic to Emile than losing his cartoons, and Remy would do just about anything to avoid Emile crying. So in this room he stayed.

As Remy moved to another painting, he ran a hand through his hair and stuck one of his hands into his pants pocket, and Emile went eerily quiet. Remy paused, turned to make sure that Emile was still there. He was, but he was staring intently at his sketchbook, like he had been staring at Remy for a second too long and wanted to avoid being caught.

Right. Remy forgot that Emile found him attractive sometimes. Remy walked over to Emile and tried to sneak a peek at Emile’s sketches but Emile snapped the book shut. “No peeking!” he said, holding the book defensively.

“All right, all right,” Remy said, “I was just wondering if you were having a good time.”

Emile nodded, covering his mouth as he yawned. “Best exhausted date ever.”

“Do you want to go home? You’ve been giggling for the past half an hour and I’m pretty sure at least two of the security guards are convinced you’re drunk.”

“Well, I finished my...fourth? Sketch, right before you moved, and I think it’s pretty good, looking it over. I haven’t drawn in a little while, so I’m a little rusty, but I like it well enough. And four sketches isn’t bad considering that I’m...”

“So punchy people are convinced you’re drunk when they take one look at you?” Remy filled in. Emile burst into a giggle fit and Remy grinned. “Oh, yeah, honey, you’re exhausted, let me take you home.”

“Careful, Rem, people might think we’re  _ dating _ if you say that,” Emile teased.

“We  _ are _ dating, you goofball. Up,” Remy said, helping Emile to his feet and walking out of the museum, smiling and waving at the guards who wished them a good night.

Emile was swaying where he stood as Remy fished in his pockets for the car keys. “Hey, Rem,” Emile said.

“Hey, yeah?” Remy responded, pulling out the keys and unlocking the car.

“I’m really gay for you, I hope you know that,” Emile said.

Remy laughed and got in the car, and Emile followed suit. “Yeah, I kinda had that figured when we started going out,” he said lightly.

“No. Like...” Emile frowned, staring at the book in his lap. “Like, I really love you, Rem. A lot. Way more than I’ve loved any of my other girlfriends or boyfriends. I love  _ you. _ Like, to infinity and beyond.”

Despite the cartoon reference at the end of that declaration, Remy still dropped the keys in shock. “Ah,” he said leaning down and nearly banging his head against the steering wheel as he grabbed them. “I’m...I’m flattered, Emile, thank you. I don’t really know how to respond to that.”

Emile stared at his book more and frowned. “You could say you like me back?” Emile said.

Remy swallowed. “Look, Emile, I’m not going to lie. Commitment terrifies me. But...but with you, it’s less scary. Did I ever tell you what I felt the day we got back together? I can’t remember.”

Emile shook his head.

Remy laughed. “I thought...that we worked well together. And that our bond was stronger after our fight. Like it would last through future fights, or troubles, or anything like that. I thought...I thought it’s what soulmates should have felt like. And I...I still believe that. I think that’s what soulmates are like, and that’s what we are. To me, anyway. You’re my first boyfriend, so I don’t really have any other baseline to go off of, but...yeah, I love you too, Emile. To infinity and beyond.”

“Really?” Emile’s voice was small.

Remy gave Emile a soft smile and a nod. “Really,  _ mio amore. _ I’m with you until the end of the line, you understand?”

“Yeah,” Emile said. “Maybe it’s the sleep deprivation, but I can’t understand why you would want to be with me.”

“Oh, no, I get that too. All the time,” Remy laughed. “You’re so impossibly out of my league. You could have any guy or girl you wanted and you wanted me? That’s like...I don’t even have the words to describe how weird that is.”

As Remy started to drive, Emile stared out his window. “I think  _ you’re _ out of  _ my _ league, Rem. Not in like, personality, maybe, but definitely in terms of looks.”

Remy laughed. “Why do you keep calling me attractive?” he asked.

Emile blinked at Remy, uncomprehending. “You’re...you’re kidding me, right?”

“No,” Remy said, looking over. “I genuinely don’t understand why you find me attractive.”

“Has...has no one seriously told you that you’re gorgeous? ‘Cause you are.”

Remy laughed. “Please. The kids at school never hesitated to mock me about my appearance, and my mother always said that I couldn’t fault them for it, because I dressed like a weirdo. I say I’m drop-dead gorgeous as a  _ joke, _ Emile.”

“Well that’s just not right,” Emile said, frowning deeply. “You’re beautiful, Rem. You deserve to know.”

“Gee, what every guy loves to hear,” Remy said sarcastically.

“Beautiful is used for men, too, get off your high horse,” Emile said, rolling his eyes. “I won’t use it again if you don’t want me to, but seriously. I’m trying to compliment you.”

Remy couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, okay, funny joke, Emile, you can stop now. I know you find me attractive, but you don’t have to play it up like that.”

They pulled into the parking lot of their apartment complex and Emile grabbed Remy’s arm before Remy could leave the car. “Rem. I’m not playing it up.”

Remy looked Emile over. Everything from the set of his jaw to the look in his eyes told Remy he was serious. Remy blinked. “Okay, maybe you find me beautiful. Doesn’t mean anyone else will.”

“You  _ do _ realize how many girls have flirted with you, over the past two years  _ alone _ because they want to get a piece of you?” Emile asked. “Remy, you’re easily a nine. I would say a ten, in all honesty, but I want you to believe me when I say this. You’re easily a nine. I’m a six. Maybe a seven if I wear those jeans you like.”

Remy blinked uncomprehendingly at Emile.

Emile sighed. “Right. Inside. We can talk more once we’re inside. And I’ll  _ prove _ to you that you’re attractive.”

“I doubt you’d be able to prove something that subjective,” Remy said, shaking his head, but getting out of the car and following Emile inside all the same.

After a moment of silence, Emile seemed to decide what he was going to say. “Listen, blondie,” Emile said, turning to look at Remy from where he was opening their front door. “I don’t even have a  _ thing _ for blonds and yet here you are, a solid ten who’s willing to stay with a six like me.”

“You’re not a six,” Remy scoffed. Emile walked into their apartment and Remy followed, closing the door with his body as he slumped against it. “Okay. I’ve got platinum blond hair and blue eyes, both of which I suppose are attractive in most people’s books. What else could I  _ possibly _ have going for me?”

Silently, Emile walked over to Remy and opened the sketchbook he had been drawing in on their date. Remy blinked. On the first two pages Emile was showing him, there were two drawings of the same guy. In the first one, he was laughing, using a hand to cover most of the smile but you could tell by his eyes that he was happy. In the second, it was a full-body shot, and the guy didn’t look ripped, but he definitely wasn’t a beanpole either. In this one he looked thoughtful, staring at something that Emile hadn’t drawn on the page. “I don’t remember any paintings like this in the museum,” Remy said, frowning.

“Well, duh, Rem. They’re drawings of  _ you. _ I spent most of the time drawing you and your reactions to things. The paintings were nice but I wanted to draw the prettiest thing in each room. That pretty thing just happened to be my date.”

“But? I don’t? Look like that?” Remy asked, confused. “That guy is actually cute. I’m...not.”

“Look, Rem, my artistic skills are not the best, but I spent, like, half an hour on the second drawing alone. I captured your likeness pretty well,” Emile said, starting to grow defensive. “Don’t trash-talk my boyfriend.”

Remy looked at the drawings closer. He could see some resemblance in the eyes and the nose, he guessed, and the mouth was similar too, but... “Where’s the acne? The too-big ears? The nose is supposed to look more like a rodent’s. The eyes are supposed to look...more predatory. That’s not what I look like!”

Emile closed the book and put it on the side table, grabbing Remy’s face in both his hands and pressing their foreheads together. “Remy, none of those things are a part of you. Like, the closest thing might be the acne, and you barely have any at all. Your ears are normal sized. No part of you should be compared to an animal. And your eyes are never predatory. They hold happiness, and sometimes pain, and sometimes there’s a fire that could never be put out by mortals. But  _ never _ do they hold any ill-intent.  _ Ever. _ Understand?”

“No,” Remy said. “I don’t understand. How could I...could I look like that guy you drew? I’m just...me.”

“Remy, there is nothing  _ just _ about you,” Emile said, taking a step back and grabbing the book. “You look absolutely stunning, and anyone who ever said otherwise either needs to get their eyes or their jealousy checked. Possibly both. Puberty was brutal to go through, but you came out the other end looking like the hero in an action movie who women throw themselves at. If there was anyone who isn’t cute in this relationship, it would be me. And I have just enough self-confidence left to say that while I might have a little baby fat on me, I am by no means unattractive, nor does that take away from my attractiveness, really.”

“You’re not ugly, Emile, you’re soft and cuddly,” Remy said, crossing his arms.

“Just like you aren’t ugly,” Emile said. “But clearly, this is going to be an argument that could go on for a little while. I’m going to spare us some heated moments and get some sleep before we continue this conversation. Besides, you probably don’t want me to show you the drawings of how I imagine seeing you naked just yet, if you’re so convinced of your stance.”

Emile walked away but Remy just stared after him. “I’m sorry, did you just admit that you drew me  _ naked?!” _

“Why do you think I was laughing so much at the last exhibit?” Emile asked over his shoulder, before closing his bedroom door to leave Remy completely stunned at the front door.

“I’m going to need an answer to that, Emile!” Remy called. Getting no response, he grumbled and went to his own room for the night.


	56. Chapter 56

####  **August 23rd, 2000**

Emile blinked uncomprehendingly at Rebecca. “What do you mean, I’m cute?” he asked.

“I mean you’re cute, honey,” Rebecca said, kissing his cheek. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you that before?”

“No?” Emile asked. “No one outside my family, no one who I wasn’t dating at that exact moment in time. No one who has never been obligated to say it.”

Rebecca shook her head. “Well, you are, Emile. You are cute. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, you hear me? I don’t care what they say at college, you’re definitely cute. And any girl...or guy...would be lucky to have you.”

“And you’re not just saying that as a girlfriend?” Emile asked.

“Emile, we just agreed to break up because we’d be moving five hours away from each other for college! I’m just telling you, point blank, that you’re a catch. I’ll be sad to see you go, but it has to happen. And don’t let anyone tell you that you’re not cute, okay?”

“Okay...?” Emile said. “Self-confidence is not my strong suit, though.”

“Is it anyone’s?” Rebecca asked. “Love you, honey. Call me sometime, yeah?”

Emile swallowed. “Yeah.”

####  **February 14th, 2002**

There were few things Emile appreciated in life more than a relaxing day in, doing nothing in particular with Remy. But one of the few things he appreciated more was going  _ out _ with Remy and having some fun just the two of them, for any occasion. And that was how the two of them found themselves at the local bowling alley on Valentine’s Day.

“You mean to tell me that you had a bowling shirt in your closet all this time that you never told me about?!” Remy laughed as he came back from his turn bowling.

“You never asked,” Emile said simply. “And I wouldn’t call it a ‘bowling shirt’ specifically. It’s just more...retro.”

“Emile, you look like you walked straight out of the fifties. It’s a bowling shirt,” Remy said as Emile picked up a bowling ball.

Emile shook his head with a laugh and began his turn on the lane. The ball glided down the lane and all the pins but one fell down. Emile grinned as Remy exclaimed, “What?!” behind him.

As soon as he turned, Remy was on him. “Do you go to a bowling team when I’m not around? Is that why you have the shirt and these mad skills?!”

“No, Remy, I’m not a part of some super-secret bowling team,” Emile laughed. “It’s just regular secret-level, and we call ourselves  _ The Spanish Inquisition, _ because no one ever expects us to win.”

Remy rolled his eyes and Emile laughed more. “Come on, Emile, be serious!”

“Never,” Emile vowed, grabbing a bowling ball and taking his second shot, landing him a spare.

Remy whooped and a few people in the other lanes either clapped or glared, depending on how much they approved of Remy’s volume. Emile laughed as Remy jumped on Emile’s back and said, “This is my boyfriend, everybody! The bowling pro!”

“Remy!” Emile squawked, laughing. “Come on, cut it out! It’s your turn!”

Remy huffed but got off Emile and went to grab a bowling ball while Emile sat down. Remy walked up to the lane and gave his turn a shot, and the ball slid down the lane quickly, knocking down every last pin for a strike. “Ha!” Remy exclaimed, jumping up and down! “Strike! Yes!”

“Way to go, Rem!” Emile said, standing up as Remy walked over and giving him a hug.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been bowling,” Remy said with a happy sigh. “I had to be...twelve or thirteen when I last went, it was someone's birthday party.”

“Yeah, I haven’t bowled in a while, either,” Emile said, grabbing a ball for his turn. “It was probably only a year and a half for me, though.”

“Your parents let you bowl at that age?” Remy asked, vaguely surprised.

Emile shrugged. “Well, I was mostly paying with my own money. What I didn’t pay, the church did. Because I was helping with the youth group when they would have events.”

“Huh. You helped out with your church?” Remy asked.

“I helped with the middle schoolers when I was a junior and a senior, and I had plans to help more when I went back home for the last summer, before we moved in together,” Emile said.

Remy grew quiet and drew into himself, and Emile immediately shook his head. “Not a bad thing, Remy, not in the slightest. And I don’t blame you. Honestly, you probably saved me a lot of stress, and I can help out at the shelter around here to feel like I’m making a difference.”

“You sure?” Remy asked, grimacing.

“Oh, yeah, Rem,” Emile said, offering Remy a crooked grin. “If I hadn’t moved in with you, we probably wouldn’t even be together right now, and I, for one, do  _ not _ want to be in a world where that is the case.”

Remy offered Emile a shy grin as he scratched the back of his neck. “That is a pretty good thing,” he agreed softly.

Emile nodded definitively. “Definitely,” he said, going to bowl his next turn, knocking down four pins. He winced. “Ouch. Not my finest shot.”

Remy laughed. “Definitely not. But that’s okay, I still love you.”

“Good,” Emile said, kissing Remy’s cheek. “I wasn’t worried that you wouldn’t, but it’s still nice to hear you say.”

Remy grinned and playfully shoved Emile away from the kiss. “Of course it is. It’s always nice to hear a pretty boy say they love you,” he laughed.

“So you agree you’re pretty?” Emile asked.

Remy shrugged. “It’s a joke, Emile.”

“Yeah, but do you think you’re pretty?” Emile pressed.

“You certainly seem to think so,” Remy dodged.

“That’s not an answer to my question.”

Remy blew out a breath. “Okay...I will say that I’m not as ugly as I was during the raging hormones of puberty.”

“That’s  _ also _ not an answer to my question,” Emile said, crossing his arms.

“Look, Emile, I just...don’t have that sort of confidence to say that I’m pretty with any amount of seriousness,” Remy said with a shrug. “Sorry.”

Emile sighed. “You really are pretty, though, and I wish you could see that,” he lamented.

Remy crossed his arms and thought. “You know, there might be a way for me to feel better enough about myself to say I’m pretty, or at the very least somewhat attractive.”

“Yeah?” Emile asked.

“That whole...self-expression thing you and Theo were talking about last week,” Remy said.

“What about it?” Emile asked.

“Well, I have a lot of T-shirts and jeans and casual clothes that can make me look good, but...all of them were approved by my parents, save for the ones I’ve found thrift-shopping since I moved here. I never got the final say in what I wanted to wear when it came to buying clothes. The leather jackets I have are the closest thing I have to rebelling against my parents’ clothing choices right now. Maybe if I redid some of my wardrobe, getting rid of the shirts I never wear, and buying some more stuff that  _ I _ like and feels like  _ me, _ that could help?” Remy seemed to be asking the last part, like he was looking for Emile’s permission.

Emile bowled his next turn and grinned as he knocked down five of the other six pins before he said, “Rem, you don’t have to ask my permission to do something like that. You have your own bank account, and so long as you can make rent, and tell me when you need the car to go shopping, I won’t stop you.”

“Yeah, but...I do want your opinion,” Remy said.

Emile ran a hand through his hair. “It could work, yeah,” he said. “But you’d have to do it right, and you’d have to have thick skin. If someone mocks your self-expression and you don’t have the confidence to laugh it off, it could backfire.”

“Eh, not many people’s opinions matter to me,” Remy said. “Their opinions can hurt, yeah, but few of them matter to the point where I would stop.”

“I doubt any of our friends would mock you about your choice of self-expression, even jokingly,” Emile noted.

“Yeah. So, I guess I should do it?” Remy asked.

“If you think it will help, definitely,” Emile said. But he knew he had to mention the obvious, and he knew Remy wouldn’t like it. “I will warn you, Rem, that you sometimes have a tendency to pick...more feminine cuts and styles, even if it’s from the men’s section. And that can gather...unwanted attention. Some people can and will accuse you of being gay, and when I say accuse, I do mean accuse. They won’t be kind.”

Remy bit his lip and looked away. “I know,” he said, almost under his breath. “I just like looking pretty, you know? There are days where being handsome is fine, but I prefer being pretty some days too. And I have plenty of clothes that can make me look handsome, but not many that make me feel pretty. And on the days where I want to feel pretty...well...I could definitely use the ego boost, you know? Because...well, you’ve seen my self-esteem issues for yourself.”

“Yeah,” Emile sighed. “But if you want to use self-expression in your clothing, by all means, do so. I’d love to see you look more confident on the days you prefer pretty over handsome.”

Remy offered Emile a shy smile. “You know, you might be the only person to have ever said that to me,” he said softly. “I never told Toby about that, granted, but I doubt he would have understood quite as much as you do.”

Emile just nodded and kept quiet about his suspicions that Remy could actually be transgender, or at the very least gender non-conforming. Then there was...nonbinary, which Emile was still trying to wrap his head around. But he knew Remy wouldn’t appreciate that sort of speculation. It wasn’t that he was against trans people, but he was pretty vehemently against the idea that  _ he _ was trans. He was firmly of the opinion that he was just a man who hated gender roles, and so long as that opinion wasn’t hurting him, Emile wouldn’t try and press. No matter how much he thought that Remy might just be so deep in the closet he himself didn’t know that was where he was.

Besides, this was supposed to be a date night, light-hearted and fun and teasing each other about their respective bowling skills. No need to be so serious all the time.

Remy went to pick up a ball and Emile grinned wickedly, lightly smacking Remy’s butt, causing him to yelp. “Hey! No! Uh-uh!” Remy said, rounding on Emile. His cheeks were bright red but he was laughing. “Hands off the merchandise until we’re home!”

“And when we’re home?” Emile asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Well, we established boundaries for a reason,” Remy said.

Emile shrugged. “We have yet to have...the  _ big _ discussion,” he said.

Remy flushed. “Well, I need to figure out...what I might like, still,” he admitted. “In terms of you, specifically. And of course, some of that is going to come from experience, but I need to figure out what’s definitely off-limits. And we have boundaries for where neither of us are willing to go yet, at least not without very good reason. I just...need time.”

“Hey, I’m willing to give you time,” Emile said, holding his hands up in surrender. “I’ll give you all the time you need. But I will ask from time to time, because we both know that you forget to tell me your when your comfort level changes sometimes.”

“Yeah, I can respect that,” Remy said. “But if you want to touch my butt, do it at home.”

“All right, all right,” Emile said, holding his hands up in surrender.

“‘Sides,” Remy said with a mischievous grin, whispering into Emile’s ear. “If we do it at home that means I can make all the innuendos I want without worrying about kids running up and asking us what the stuff they overheard was about.”

Emile cackled, clapping a hand over his mouth as he shook. “You’re terrible!” Emile exclaimed.

Remy just winked and went to pick up his bowling ball again. “Ah, but that’s what you love about me,  _ mio amore!” _ he exclaimed as he went to bowl again.

Emile shook his head as Remy knocked down most of his next set of pins in one shot. This was the man he was in love with. A ridiculous, disastrous mess of a man who loved making jokes about any and everything but was very shy when actual feelings became involved. And he had a heart of gold that just needed to be protected fiercely, because it wasn’t fragile, but it could be damaged if you just stampeded recklessly around. Emile thought about it, and thought back to Remy’s talk about how he viewed soulmates, and he was inclined to agree. If there  _ was _ such a thing as soulmates, then he could believe that Remy was his soulmate.


	57. Chapter 57

####  **March 6th, 1999**

Remy reached for a T-shirt on the shelf, but his mother immediately said, “No,” without turning around.

“Come on, Mom, it just has a band logo on it! It’s nothing bad!” he protested.

His mother turned and levelled him with a glare. “I don’t care what it’s from, it has imagery of death on it, and I will  _ not _ have you promoting that sort of thing whenever you leave the house.”

Remy sighed. “Mom, I’m seventeen. Can’t I  _ please _ buy my own clothes? Don’t you trust me enough to do that?”

“After reaching for that shirt?” his mother scoffed. “Honey, I wouldn’t trust you to not come home with a tattoo and piercings if you moved any further than three hours away for college.”

Remy cringed. He didn’t even  _ want _ either of those things, but his mom made it really hard to be who he wanted.

####  **February 22nd, 2002**

Remy looked around the racks of clothes and hummed, picking out a pink button-up and holding it to his chest. It didn’t look baggy, exactly, but there was definitely some puffiness to it that made Remy interested in it. “What do you think?” he asked Emile, turning to look at his boyfriend who was scrutinizing some button-up shirts himself.

Emile looked up and over at Remy, and said, “You don’t need my approval, Rem, remember?”

“I know,” Remy said with an eye-roll. “But do you think this is worth six bucks?”

Emile hummed, coming closer and feeling the shirt. “Seems pretty sturdy, and like it didn’t get a lot of wear from its previous owner, so I’d say so.”

Remy looked down and nodded. “Yeah, I think so too. Thanks for being willing to give up a date night or two for this.”

“Hey, I’d rather you like yourself than go out on a couple dates where you’re miserable, girl,” Emile said with a shrug.

Remy offered him a huge grin, happiness blooming in his chest. “I love you, Emile, I hope you know that.”

Emile grinned back at Remy. He looked around and hummed. “You know, I don’t see anyone in the woman’s section.”

“Yeah, so?” Remy asked. His heart leapt into his throat. Surely, Emile wasn’t suggesting...

“Well, they certainly have some brightly-colored blouses, and the sweaters from what I’ve seen can be pretty cozy. Do you want to look over there for some things?” Emile shrugged. “Might be interesting.”

...Maybe he was, after all. “Sure, why not,” Remy said, trying to sound casual. By the way which Emile placed a reassuring hand on the small of Remy’s back, he had seen right through the ruse.

They walked up to the blouses and Remy felt immediately overwhelmed. There were so many different colors, and so many shades of those colors as well. It wasn’t one pink flower among earth tones, it was a meadow of flowers. “This is...a lot to choose from,” Remy said hesitantly, but he stepped into the aisle anyway. He was almost shaking, he was so excited and nervous. There were so many options, so many options that he absolutely loved. He picked out a yellow blouse with little flowers as the buttons, and he grinned. “This one’s cute!” he said, showing it to Emile excitedly.

“Yeah? See any others you like?” Emile asked, grinning.

Remy spun in a circle, looking around. “There’s so many...” he breathed. He pulled out a rich blue blouse with purple pinstripes and said, “This one’s also really good.”

Emile looked incredibly proud of himself. “You like button-ups a lot, I’m a little surprised.”

“I mean, I wear the same white T-shirts over and over because that’s just what I don’t mind getting dirty. If I throw out the expectation of going to work, and I get to choose whatever I want to wear, you’d find a lot more color in there, most days,” Remy explained.

“Good to know,” Emile said, seeming to make a mental note of that.

Remy looked around. “I think the skinny jeans I already have would go well with these,” he said. “And I don’t understand women’s pant sizes, anyway.”

“From what I understand, most  _ women _ don’t understand women’s pant sizes,” Emile laughed.

Remy laughed with him, and looked around, humming. His eyes lit up as he ran down the aisle, picking out a white-and-green gingham blouse. “Emile! This one’s  _ perfect!” _ he exclaimed.

Emile laughed and walked over, looking at the clothes in Remy’s arms. “Do you think four new shirts will do for today, or do you want to look around more?”

“I think this will be a good start,” Remy said with a nod. “And they all should fit.”

“Do you want to go to the changing rooms, just to make sure?” Emile asked.

Remy shook his head. “No, I’m confident that I know my size.”

“All right,” Emile said. “Then we should probably check out and get ready for the party Clara was going to host.”

“Oh!” Remy exclaimed. “I completely forgot about that! I can wear one of these tonight!”

“Yeah, you can,” Emile said with amusement.

Remy was completely delighted as they rang up their purchases. “Man, this is going to be great!” he exclaimed. “Theo’s gonna do a double-take when he sees me, I just know it!”

“What do you think you’re gonna go with?” Emile asked.

“Probably the pinstripe shirt with my black skinny jeans,” Remy said as they walked outside. “I’m going to look drop-dead gorgeous. And I genuinely mean that, this time!”

Emile gave Remy a surprised but delighted smile. “You mean that?”

“Yeah!” Remy said. “I mean, come on! Those colors look great on me, and the jeans work well with my butt, and I can...I can actually look good!”

“You always look good,” Emile said, kissing Remy’s cheek. “But I’m glad you’re finding your self-confidence.”

Remy grinned and chattered the whole way home, before going to his room and getting changed into the black skinny jeans and pulling on his new blouse. It was unusually soft, softer than any of the men’s shirts he had owned with buttons on them. As he did up the buttons, he noticed just a smidge of tightness in the shoulders, indicating that it wasn’t made with broad shoulders in mind. But he left two of the buttons undone, part for style, and part for comfort, and he looked good to go as he ran his fingers through his hair once.

When he walked out of his room, Emile was in a T-shirt and jeans, and Remy laughed. “Do you think it’s weird that while I dress  _ up _ for parties, you always dress  _ down?” _

Emile shrugged. “Not really. It’s just how our styles go. I dress to impress everyday, and dress down at parties to let loose a little and chill, and you dress down most days to relax and be comfortable, while you dress to impress at parties.”

“Well, it does mean that I get checked out by  _ all _ the cute boys,” Remy teased. “And I know for a fact my boyfriend likes it.”

“Mm,” Emile hummed his agreement. “Yeah, I could definitely see myself ripping that outfit off you right about now.”

“Oh, God,” Remy laughed. “I almost regret having that talk now.”

“Almost?” Emile asked.

“Almost,” Remy agreed. “Because I know you won’t when we have somewhere to go. And you won’t until you know I’m comfortable, too, and we both know I might need a little longer.”

Emile offered Remy a smile, and Remy shrugged. “What?” he asked.

“You put a lot of trust in me, Rem. I’m honored,” Emile said.

“You shouldn’t be,” Remy said. “You  _ earned _ that trust. I didn’t place it on you with no forethought. You earned it. Don’t be honored. Be proud.”

“This coming from the guy who doesn’t like shrinks,” Emile laughed. “Shall we go?”

Remy rolled his eyes. “Yeah, let’s get out of here, before I change my mind and pin you to a wall as I make my point.”

“Ooh, that a promise?” Emile teased.

“Shut up. You. Car.  _ Now,” _ Remy said, turning pink and snatching up his home key and his jacket.

Emile just laughed and walked past Remy as they both left the apartment. “Come on, Rem, two can play at that game! And you’re always so eager to try and fluster me, I thought you might be interested if the tables turned?”

“You, sir, are evil!” Remy hissed. “You  _ know _ that I make those sorts of jokes to get comfortable with the thought, not because I mean them!”

“You also use them to fluster me, sometimes,” Emile reasoned, getting in the car. When Remy followed, Emile pulled out of the parking lot and smiled. “Besides, Rem. In that situation,  _ I _ would be pinning  _ you _ to the wall.”

Remy firmly ignored the sheer amount of curious and interested that prospect made him. Stupid hormones clearly hadn’t quite settled after puberty. He wasn’t ready, and he wasn’t going to force himself to try anything.

They got to the sorority house that Clara had joined at the beginning of the year and was now using as an excuse to include her friends in a party the other girls were hosting. Emile and Remy got out of the car and walked up to the house, and Emile knocked on the door. Remy rolled his eyes and opened the door shortly after, walking in and exclaiming, “Don’t worry, folks! The party has officially arrived!”

Clara turned at Remy’s voice and she waved. “Hey guys!” she chirped. “Remy, I love that shirt!”

“Thanks!” Remy said, beaming. “I found it today at the thrift store and decided to give it a spin!”

“It looks good on you!” Clara declared.

Remy turned to look at some girls who were laughing as he passed them. “Can I help you ladies?” he asked.

“You know that’s a  _ blouse, _ right?” one of them asked.

“Well, duh!” Remy exclaimed. “I picked it out in the women’s section! What else would it  _ be?!” _

The girls stared at him in stunned silence. He offered them a fake smile. “Yeah, guys can wear blouses, too, just in case you were wondering. And they can do dresses, and skirts, and pretty much anything except bras, I think. But tonight I figured a blouse and skinny jeans would do. And yes, I look fabulous, and no, I won’t hold your jealousy against you.”

He turned away as they started exclaiming that they weren’t jealous, and he walked over to Clara, spying Theo behind her. Theo glanced at him, before glancing away, and freezing. Remy laughed as Theo looked back over and stared. “What’s up, Theo? The life of the party’s here!”

“And he’s looking  _ fabulous, _ man!” Theo exclaimed, high-fiving Remy. “You’re not worried about people picking on you?”

“Nah. Some girls laughed, but they’re just jealous because they  _ wish _ they could rock this,” Remy said with a grin. “I actually look cute for once in my life.”

“Uh, you always look cute, Remy,” Theo said. “Both me  _ and _ Emile agree on that. But I’m glad you’re finally seeing it too.”

“Yeah, and all it took was a nice blouse and four bucks to buy it!” Remy laughed. “Oh, man, it feels weird but I’m actually confident. I mean, I’m confident  _ enough _ most days, but on days like today...usually I’m not. But I put on this shirt and all of a sudden I can conquer the world! Metaphorically.”

“Possibly literally, too, man. You look that good,” Theo laughed. “Honestly, I almost regret not snatching you up when I had the chance.”

“Almost?” Remy asked.

“I see the way you are with Emile, man. I wouldn’t do anything to break the two of you away from each other. You work too well together. You’re always in sync, and anticipating each others’ needs, and you’re there for each other when it matters most. If I didn’t know any better, I would say you guys had been friends your whole lives.”

“May as well have been, the way you two get along and share secrets,” Clara said. “I don’t know anyone else who Emile would tell embarrassing childhood stories to. I don’t even know what those stories  _ are _ because you never tell!”

“He told me in confidence, I would never break that trust!” Remy said, offended at the mere thought of betraying Emile like that.

“And that’s why the two of you are relationship goals,” Theo said, grinning. “I think you guys could definitely go all the way. Find a state to get married in, settle down, and love each other ‘til death do you part.”

“Marriage is a terrifying prospect,” Remy said. “And it’s only  _ marginally _ less scary with Emile. I don’t think I’m quite there yet.”

“Well, whenever you are, I’m almost certain that Emile will be too,” Theo assured him. “But enough about that. We came here to have a good time! Care to dance with me and make sure the girls around here know who we are?”

Clara laughed. “They already know what I told them, you two.”

“Well, then, let’s demonstrate it for them!” Remy exclaimed, grabbing Theo’s hand as they moved to an open spot to dance.


	58. Chapter 58

####  **November 8th, 1998**

“Emile, I  _ told _ you you’d worry yourself sick if you didn’t take a break,” his mother sighed as she tried to force Emile back into bed. “You need to rest.”

“I  _ need _ to make sure Faith is okay!” he protested. “Resting can wait!”

“Emile, you’re running a medium-grade fever and you’re shaking like you’re going to pass out at any moment,” his mother said, gently pushing Emile back onto the bed. “You need to rest if you have any hope of continuing to help your friends later.”

Emile pouted. “As soon as you let me leave the house again I’ll be checking up on her.”

“Then you’re not leaving the house until you’re better,” his mother said simply. “Rest up, honey, please. You’ll feel so much better if you do.”

####  **March 16th, 2002**

“Remy, this is really unnecessary—”

“—No, Emile, I’m not arguing with you on this,” Remy insisted, leveling Emile with a glare as he pulled the blankets over Emile’s shivering form. “You worked all of last weekend helping friends with mental health issues, and then you take five shifts at Target all because one of your coworkers gave you those puppy dog eyes, and you still did all your school work on top of that, and now you’re exhausted and running a fever. You are  _ staying in bed _ and you will  _ not _ be pushing yourself that hard ever. Again. Or else you  _ will _ be getting an earful from me. Understood?”

Emile coughed and tried to glare right back at Remy, but the effect was dampened by the sheer amount of shaking Emile was doing. When Remy arched an eyebrow, Emile sighed. “Fine,” he groaned. “I won’t push myself that far. I’ll take a day’s break next time.”

“No, there is no ‘next time,’ Emile!” Remy exclaimed. He started pacing the length of the bedroom and all Emile could do was watch. “You always do this! You’re  _ always _ pushing yourself to be faster, or smarter, or stronger, so that you can do more work, help more people, do whatever needs to be done. And inevitably you almost pass out, or you actually  _ do _ pass out, or you injure yourself, or you literally  _ work yourself sick. _ You are staying in bed, and there will not be a ‘next time.’”

Emile sighed. He appreciated that Remy cared. Really, he did. But he couldn’t just stop. “Rem, my friends need me, and we need the extra money from Target, and my classes  _ have _ to be passed if I want to keep my financial aid. I have to keep up with all of those things.”

“We don’t need the extra money so bad that you  _ work _ yourself  _ sick,” _ Remy insisted. “Now we’re just gonna be spending the extra cash on cold medicine, or antibiotics from the doctor’s if you keep this up. And just because none of your friends were suicidal doesn’t mean they weren’t hurting you with those problems. No one has to be my level of extreme before they start causing damage.  _ And _ a B is a passing grade, Emile. You don’t need a four-point-oh GPA in order to go to grad school to become a therapist.”

Emile leaned into the pillows and groaned. “You don’t understand, Rem. They  _ need _ me.”

“And they need other people, too. You can’t just have one person as your entire support system. That’s not healthy. I should know. I put that burden on Toby and later on you. And it didn’t end well for anyone involved,” Remy said, crossing his arms and glaring at Emile. “Take a break.”

Emile searched Remy’s face, looking for any crack in his resolve to exploit. Normally he wouldn’t, but these were not normal circumstances. When he found none, he sighed. “You don’t want me to do this again, but...I  _ have _ to, Rem. I  _ have _ to make sure they’re okay.”

Remy shook his head. “No, Emile. I’m not arguing with you on this. You’re not going to push yourself past your limits again.”

Emile made a disgruntled noise. “Remy—”

“—No.”

“But  _ Rem—” _

“—I said. No.” When Emile opened his mouth to speak again, Remy beat him to the punch. “Every time you push yourself past your limits, I get scared. I’m legitimately terrified that whatever pushed you past those limits is going to wind up hurting or killing you. Ever since I found out you were pushing past your limits to try and help me before you found me a therapist, I’ve wanted to make sure that you  _ don’t _ get hurt. But you make that a near-impossible job, Emile. For all your talk about not endangering your health, you certainly do it often.

“You pushed past your limits for way longer than you should have before you directed me to a therapist. You go out of your way to help your friends, even if you feel dead on your feet. When you took your friend to the local audition and wound up having a part to play yourself? You nearly passed out—more than once, might I add—after the show was over. Even with your grandfather. If I hadn’t stepped in, you would have taken every last hit your grandfather dished out. Silently. Not showing any hurt, to anyone, but especially not to me, because you wouldn’t want me to feel guilty over you taking that hit for me. In your desire to protect your friends, you’re left damaging yourself, don’t you see that?!”

Emile turned red. Since when could Remy read him so easily? “Okay, okay. You’ve proved your point that this hurts me,” Emile sighed. “But...how do I just...stop? I can’t just cut them off or ignore them when they’re struggling and I have the capacity to help.”

“You wouldn’t be doing either of those things. If someone calls you, or texts you, asking if you can help, all you say is, ‘I’m not in a position where I can help you right now. Can we talk later?’ It’s that easy.” Remy shrugged. “Look, they’re my friends too, Emile. I care about them, however reluctant I may have been to accept that fact at first. But I can’t help them twenty-four-seven, and neither can you. The only difference is that I stop when I know I’ve pushed myself too far. You realize that you’re approaching your limit, or that you’ve passed your limit, and you keep going, because people still need your help, in your mind.”

“They  _ do _ need my help—”

“—They need help,  _ period. _ Not  _ your _ help specifically. Isn’t that why you took me to a therapist? You couldn’t do it on your own and you knew that if I kept pushing you it would end ugly for both of us. You could refer them to a therapist or a psych if it gets bad enough, or just say that you need to focus on yourself for a bit. That’s not bad, it’s not selfish. It’s self-preservation. And frankly, honey, you need a hell of a lot more of that than you already have.”

Emile pulled a face. He knew Remy had a point, but he didn’t want to admit that fact. “What if they get hurt because I didn’t help them?” he asked. “What if they hurt  _ themselves _ because I didn’t help them?”

“That’s not on you, honey,” Remy said, sitting down on the side of the bed and putting his hand on Emile’s shoulder. “Taking care of yourself and your own needs every once in a while is more than healthy, it’s  _ necessary.” _

Emile groaned. “I just...I worry. I can’t help it. I worry about them.”

“I know you do,” Remy said. “So do they. Everyone you’re friends with knows you care about them. Which is why they won’t be concerned you’re blowing them off if you say you need some time to yourself.”

“Remy...” Emile could feel his frustration building. Remy had a point, but couldn’t he see that this  _ mattered _ to Emile? That he was willing to make the sacrifices necessary to keep his friends safe? “You don’t understand.”

Remy crossed his arms and huffed. “I understand that you’re concerned about your friends. I understand that you’ve lost more of them than you’d care to count. I understand that you’re scared of losing more. I understand your reluctance to take time for yourself when you perceive that you’re needed elsewhere. I understand that when you feel backed up against a wall with all your responsibilities looming overhead, you're more likely to disregard your safety in favor of getting rid of some of those problems. Because you don’t want to worry. But don’t you understand?  _ I _ worry about  _ you _ when  _ you _ push yourself too far. Theo called earlier asking if you were okay because you looked feverish when you talked yesterday. Everyone worries about you when you push yourself too far.”

“But—”

“—Honey, everyone will be  _ relieved _ if you say you’re taking time to focus on yourself. Trust me. No one will be mad, no one will do anything hasty just because you say you need rest.” Remy shook his head. “You need to stop pushing yourself so much.”

Emile sighed. Remy had all the logical points on his side, and Emile had none. Didn’t mean that he was going to be happy about it, though. “Fine,” he grumbled. “I’ll rest a little more often.”

“All I ask is that you rest when you’re pushing your limits,” Remy said. “The rest of the time, you can worry yourself sick over your friends.”

“I’m already sick,” Emile said weakly.

“Yeah, I know, and I was genuinely worried about this continuing for a hot minute,” Remy said.

Emile sighed. “You know...this is completely off topic, but I think we should upgrade to a Queen. Or a King.”

“As in...” Remy paused. Stood. “As in with beds?”

“Yeah,” Emile said, looking up at Remy. “We cuddle in each others’ beds so much, and we’ve shared tiny beds together before. Upgrading to a Queen would mean we both have space and we don’t have to worry about someone falling off the bed when cuddling. Do you think it’s too soon?”

“Not particularly,” Remy said. “You just...took me off guard, is all.”

“The other good thing about that is that you could force me to relax by cuddling me aggressively in bed until I do what you say,” Emile joked.

Remy actually  _ perked up _ at that and Emile regretted giving Remy ideas like this from his jokes. He  _ never _ learned, even though he should have come to expect this sort of thing from Remy. Taking jokes seriously and actually using them as if they were a viable option. “That’s a good idea.”

“That was a  _ joke, _ Rem.”

“A joke that I will turn into reality,” Remy said definitively. “We’re getting a Queen. Slightly cheaper than a King, and both of us can still fit comfortably, and I can cuddle you until the sun goes away.”

Emile groaned. “Remy, I’m sick, go easy on me, please.”

“All right, all right, I won’t give away all my evil plans to get yourself to give you a break. Besides, it might help to keep a thing or two up my sleeve, anyway,” Remy said.

Emile patted the bed. “You afraid of germs? Or are you willing to cuddle?”

“We live in the same apartment,  _ mio amore. _ Something tells me that if I’m going to get sick it’s not going to matter whether I cuddle you or not,” Remy said. He took off his socks and lifted up the covers, saying, “Scoot over.”

Emile rolled his eyes but complied and he and Remy just snuggled for a while. He sighed. “What are we gonna do about whichever room is no longer one of ours?” Emile mumbled.

“I dunno,” Remy admitted. “Some point or another it might become an office, when you’re a therapist and you need somewhere to work at home. Until then...uh...guest room?”

“I guess,” Emile said. The gears were whirring in his head, and it might have just been because he was sick, but he was thinking about an office that  _ both _ of them might use. “What if you started your own shop?”

Remy laughed. “That old pipe dream? I’ve given up hope on getting the money for a property, Emile. I can buy the food, the advertising, hire people, and all that, if I save my money properly. But I can’t afford to rent, let alone buy, a property where I could start my own coffee shop.”

“Y’know, we should probably start saving more money anyway,” Emile mused. “Emergency funds, retirement, all that good stuff.”

“I guess,” Remy sighed. “I do like getting to go on dates with you, though.”

“So let’s make it a once a month thing, instead of twice, and go to places that don’t charge too much,” Emile reasoned. “Saving our money is important. Especially if we’re going to be splurging on a bed.”

Remy laughed. “True.”

Emile grinned. He was getting a crazy idea, and it might have been because he was sick, but Remy had been passed on promotions before. And if they saved properly, he  _ knew _ they could get a shop off the ground.


	59. Chapter 59

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if this actually qualifies as a TW, and I certainly don't consider this chapter rated M, myself, but there is...slightly more extensive talk of sex in the past, as the chapter is about "the morning after." If that squicks you, feel free to skip this one.

####  **June 18th, 1995**

Remy sat as still as he could in the church pew while the pastor continued to talk. Usually he just droned on and on for forty five minutes or so, but today he was riled up. He was yelling about fire and brimstone and God coming down to smite all the gays from the face of the earth.

There had been some serious niggling doubts in Remy’s mind concerning religion before, but this just sealed the deal for him. He was very much not going to believe in any god or gods who hated him just because he was gay.

Toby glanced at Remy and scribbled a note in the corner of the church bulletin.  _ You okay? _

Remy nodded, and wrote back,  _ I’m okay. Just decidedly agnostic. _

Toby bit back a snicker even as he winced in sympathy. Remy just shrugged and leaned back into the pew. Religion just wasn’t worth it.

####  **March 31st, 2002**

Remy woke up that morning slowly, for once consciousness not dumping a bucket of cold water on his head in order to get him awake, albeit groggy. He stretched, feeling the bedsheets...he paused. He felt the bedsheets in a  _ lot _ more places than he normally did. He was naked.

Suddenly that bucket of cold water came crashing down and he bolted upright in bed with a gasp. “Holy shit,” he breathed, looking around wildly for his clothes. He found his briefs on the floor and pulled them on, cheeks flaring red like a forest fire. He kept cursing under his breath, hands shaking hard as he pulled up his briefs from the day before. He knew what had happened. He  _ remembered _ what had happened, every dirty little detail. He had  _ slept with Emile last night, _ in more than just the literal sense.

“Rem?” Emile asked softly from behind him. Remy turned to find Emile blinking owlishly at him from behind his glasses. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” Remy said, cheeks red as he realized that Emile was  _ also _ waking up naked, and turning redder at the reaction that gathered from him.

“Aw, shit,” Emile said, pushing himself up and grabbing his clothes. “I was worried that we were going too fast, that we did it too soon. I thought...I worried that you’d wake up and instantly be a nervous wreck.”

Remy shoved shaking hands into the crooks of his arms, crossing them tight. “Emile...”

“Did I push you too far? Did I make you feel like you  _ had _ to sleep with me?” Emile asked, as he got dressed. “God, Rem, I didn’t mean to do that—”

“—You didn’t,” Remy said. “I...I wanted that. It was...it was good. And...and I remember everything, you never did anything I didn’t ask you to do. You asked beforehand if you wanted to try something. You...respected me. You didn’t...you didn’t do what you’re worried about.”

“Okay,” Emile said, eyeing Remy. “But you’re still a nervous wreck from here.”

“Well...it’s not every day that you spend an entire evening and a good portion of the night just...yeah,” Remy said. “Especially since it was my first time doing... _ anything _ with a partner. I’m...God, can we skip this conversation? I don’t regret it, it was good—great, really. You were amazing and loving and there’s no one else I would have rather done it with, I’m just realizing that I  _ did _ do it and while I’m not freaking out about losing my virginity, I  _ am _ freaking out that what happened  _ really _ happened and wasn’t just a wild dream that my mind had been showing with increasing frequency.”

Emile blinked. “There’s...a lot to unpack there. First and foremost, you’ve had dreams about this?”

“You haven’t?” Remy asked incredulously.

“I mean, I have, but that’s normal. You’re acting like there’s some big scandal or something. What am I missing?” Emile asked.

“That my family is very,  _ very _ conservative and I just participated in gay sex out of wedlock for the first time,” Remy deadpanned. “I’m a little in shock.”

Emile stared at Remy for one, two, three seconds. Then he said, “A valid response.”

Remy shifted on his feet and went looking for his shirt and pants. Emile moved around their bed and stood there patiently, waiting for Remy to get dressed. Remy was still shaking, too much to be passed off as pre-coffee jitters. When he turned, Emile was just standing there, looking him over. “Religious guilt?” Emile asked.

“I’m not religious,” Remy said.

“You grew up in a religious family,” Emile pointed out. “My first time with a guy? I had a panic attack afterwards. Everything the church said about having sex before marriage, nevermind sex with  _ another guy, _ made me convinced I was going to Hell. And at this point I was already scrutinizing what the church was saying and making my own opinions based on what I knew. You can feel the effects of...what’s the word...indoctrination! You can feel the effects of indoctrination no matter if you’re still in the church or not.”

Remy was still red with embarrassment, and the only reason he didn’t grow redder was because it simply wasn’t possible. He knew that what he had done with Emile was fine. In certain circles, especially the ones they both ran in, it was even encouraged. And yet...he still felt off. Embarrassed. Dirty.

“Honey?” Emile asked softly, walking over and tilting Remy’s chin up. “What you did wasn’t a bad thing. You’re not sinning, you’re not defiled. You’re certainly not dirty in any other sense than sweaty.” That got Remy laughing. “Listen. We can either take a shower together or separately, get ready for the day, and talk about it however much you want, if that sounds good to you?”

Remy nodded, flushing red. “You can take the shower first. I only have an afternoon shift today.”

Emile nodded and kissed Remy’s cheek, before he left the room. Remy sat down on the bed heavily. Much as he hated it, he still felt a little guilty. He knew that this wasn’t wrong. He  _ knew _ that. But he still  _ felt _ wrong.

He scrubbed his face with his hands. “It’s gonna be okay,” he mumbled. “You’re not in trouble. No one will hate you for this. Emile isn’t the type to make a notch on his belt and leave as soon as he sleeps with someone. You’ve wanted this for a while, and you got it. It’s okay.”

This was one of those things that Kim had suggested he do when his anxiety got the better of him, and at first he had scoffed at it. But now, it was helping him rationalize. “It’s okay...” Remy breathed. In one fluid motion, he stood and moved to the kitchen. Everything was okay, but he needed his coffee if he wanted any hope of no jitters the rest of the day. He got to making breakfast, and when the bathroom door opened and Emile walked out looking almost-immaculate, Remy laughed. “You realize you look like a nerd when you dress in those sweater vests?”

“I’ll wear what I want to wear when I want to wear it, thank you very much, Mister I’ll-Wear-A-Leather-Jacket-In-The-Summer-For-The-Aesthetic.”

Remy blinked. “That’s an eleven word nickname. That’s entirely too long.”

Emile cracked a grin. “I might use it again if you’re not careful and make a jab at my clothing choices.”

“Look, I’m just stating facts,” Remy said, leaving the coffee pot to brew as he went back to their room, grabbed his clothes, and went to shower.

He turned on the water and let himself relax in the spray. He wasn’t tense, exactly, but he had been on edge and it felt nice to just go limp under hot water for a couple minutes. He could let his mind blank and not worry about anything except making sure he didn’t breathe in any water. It was nice to not have to think.

Of course, he couldn’t stay in the shower forever, so he cleaned up and got dressed with a somewhat tired sigh. He walked out of the bathroom to find Emile sipping some of Remy’s coffee. “Hey! That’s mine!” Remy exclaimed with an indignant laugh.

“This is good, Rem. Is this just the pre-ground stuff we buy?” Emile asked.

“Kinda. I add a few extra things when we have them to spice up the blend a little, and make it a little less pure bitter,” Remy said with a shrug. “Why?”

“When I say this is good, I mean it’s  _ really good, _ Rem,” Emile said. “If this is what you can do with the canned grounds, what can you do with fresh ingredients at a coffee shop?”

“The world may never know,” Remy sighed. “Because the managers don’t want me to experiment with their supplies in case it flops and we waste good coffee.”

Emile tutted. “That’s a shame. You could really make some quality blends, I’m sure of it. Some stuff that they’ve never thought of before.”

Remy flushed. “You think so?” he asked. He wasn’t sure why, but he really wanted Emile’s approval on this.

“I know so,” Emile said with a grin, passing Remy a mug filled with coffee. “Come on, you said it’s yours, taste the fruits of your labor.”

Remy sipped it and hummed. “Yeah, adding more vanilla extract was a good call. I was worried it would be over powering, but that works really well. And I used...” Remy went to the notebook he kept in the kitchen, flipping it open. “I know it was two more teaspoons than last time...okay, yeah, about three tablespoons this time. I could probably stretch that further but this works fine for me.”

He scribbled that down and Emile was watching him. “What?” he asked.

“That’s what you use that notebook for?” Emile asked. “Writing down recipes?”

“Writing down experiments I try in my cooking, yeah,” Remy said. “Because I would easily forget exactly how much I used and lose the recipe, and that would destroy me. I don’t write down the full thing, just the important bits, but...”

“That’s still interesting,” Emile said, looking over Remy’s shoulder. “You’re essentially making your own cookbook.”

“Yeah, a little, I guess,” Remy said.

Emile grinned that scheming grin he had been showing a lot more recently. “What?” Remy asked, crossing his arms.

“It’s nothing,” Emile said, waving his hand in a dismissing motion.

“It’s not,” Remy insisted. “Come on, tell me!”

Emile sighed. “I’m just thinking about what it would be like if you...I don’t know...did your own thing. Went off to culinary school, or even just opened a shop around here, because I don’t know how much culinary school could honestly teach you.”

“You’re not scheming to send me away, are you?” Remy halfway teased.

“No, of course not,” Emile said, kissing Remy’s cheek. “I’d never want to send you away. I just can’t help but wonder what it would be like if you were to  _ actually _ be a master chef, instead of us just joking around.”

Remy sipped at his coffee and hummed. “I imagine there would be a lot more stress on my end and I might make you cook more dinners at home because I wouldn’t want to come home  _ just _ to do more of my job.”

“Fair enough,” Emile laughed. “Anything you want to do today before your afternoon shift?”

“Meh,” Remy said. “I think we’ve got ourselves the recipe for a lazy Sunday morning in. And that’s the way I like it.”

“Well, after the night we had, I’m not surprised you’d just want to lay low,” Emile said with a wink.

Remy’s cheeks flared bright red. “Emile Zachary Thomas, I will murder you.”

“Aw, but where’s the fun in that?” Emile asked. “I wouldn’t ever be able to do what we did last night again.”

“But you also wouldn’t joke about it and make me flustered, so I count that as a win,” Remy said with a shrug.

“What, you can dish it out but you can’t take it?” Emile asked. “You love teasing me around my parents, or our friends, or anywhere when someone else can hear. Why is it different when I do it?”

Remy shrugged. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Maybe because when I do it around other people, it's pretty clear that I’m joking. If you do that when it’s just the two of us, it’s not for show, as much. You might be teasing me, but there’s a part of you that always means it, too. That’s...intimidating.”

“Really?” Emile asked. “You’re intimidated by people actually following through with less than safe for work actions?”

Remy shrugged. “Not usually. Most of the people who make those jokes around me, even if they tried to make a move, it wouldn’t be scary. But with you...it’s different.”

“Why? Am I scary?” Emile asked, worried.

Remy shook his head and was quick to reassure, “No, it’s not because you’re scary. It’s because...you matter.”

Emile stood there, effectively stunned. “...Oh,” he said.

Remy was red as a tomato. “...Yeah...”

When Emile could respond again, his smile was a little watery. “I love you too, Rem.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost forgot to say, ya boi is officially twenty one, now! I could legally drink if only I weren't on antidepressants.


	60. Chapter 60

####  **March 20th, 2002**

Emile redid the math, looking over the numbers over and over again. It was possible. He’d have to be smart about investing money to get the extra funds he needed, and he’d have to skimp and save every last penny he could, but by the end of the year, he’d be able to buy a shop. If Remy agreed, they could make it so he could start his own shop. Emile would buy the property, but the rest could be all Remy’s.

There was the matter of getting this done without Remy being the wiser, however. If Remy caught on to what Emile was doing he’d insist that Emile save the money for something else. But if he got Remy to save his money, and Emile saved his own, they could do this. They could get Remy an epic origin story that rivalled the greats in the comics.

####  **April 11th, 2002**

Emile checked the time he had left on the computer at the library. It wasn’t a whole lot, but it should be enough. He had been looking into this off and on for months, saving away most of his extra funds that didn’t go to dates purely to fund this crazy adventure. He googled private investigators in the area, looking around to make sure Remy wasn’t nearby. He opened his email account and looked through the listings, finding the one he had looked up before and found good reviews from. He copied the investigator’s email address into the computer and composed a quick email, asking about discreteness and the rate that the guy charged.

He knew it might take a couple days for the guy to get back to him, so he logged off the computer and blew out a breath. He doubted the man would say no, and he had a good record of finding people who had supposedly dropped off the face of the Earth. But Emile still worried. After all, PI’s could get very expensive very quickly, and Emile didn’t have access to his trust fund until the third of May.

Determination still drove him to send the email, though. Emile knew that this could work. It might take a while, but it could be done. If anyone could find Toby, it was this Dice character. He had a good eye, and he knew how to use it to find a trail. The reviews Emile had found said as much, at any rate.

He walked out of the computer room with a sigh. He could come back tomorrow and see if Dice had replied, but Emile wished he didn’t have to wait in limbo.

Remy bounded over to him with excitement in his eyes, and Emile smiled. Remy was growing bouncier as time went on. The holidays were mere memories by this point, there were no huge, groundbreaking milestones to stress either of them out, it was just...quiet. They were free to be weird, to be excited, to be however they wanted. And Remy seemed to get bouncy whenever he found something he particularly liked, which tended to be a new recipe book, or an idea for coffee that Remy had never considered before. Sure, he would still get excited over comics, but there weren’t too many comics at the library, so Emile suspected it was one of the former things that had Remy hyped up. “What did you find this time, Rem?” Emile asked with a good-natured laugh.

“I found a book on the history of the uses of caffeine in the science section!” Remy exclaimed, dragging Emile to his table. “It’s super cool!”

“Since when do you browse the science section?” Emile asked.

“Since I was bored looking at mystery novels, wandered around, and ended up there. My eyes found this, and I’ve been taking a look through it, and it’s amazing! Did you know that caffeine is actually supposed to be a  _ poison? _ That’s why you can’t feed it to animals! Humans are just weird enough that we can consume it and not get hurt!” Remy’s eyes lit up like fireworks on the fourth of July. “Like, science and history? Usually not my thing, if I go into nonfiction usually it means I’m looking for recipes, but this is so cool! Coffee beans have been used for centuries, if not millenia! How crazy is that?! Coffee comes all the way from Ethiopia, and now it’s used all over the world! It’s...I just...it’s  _ so cool, _ Emile!”

“I know that,” Emile said, grinning. “Purely by your enthusiasm. I’ve never seen you this excited, not even over comics!”

“I never got to learn interesting things in school,” Remy said. “Even in college, I knew everything they were teaching me, but I never knew about this stuff before!”

Emile just nodded along patiently. “You know, if I had known you’d get this excited about learning things you wanted to learn about, I would have insisted we make regular trips to the library forever ago. Do you want to make them weekly, now?”

Remy’s eyes were wide. “Oh, could we? I doubt this is the only book about this sort of thing here, I bet I could find all sorts of cool stuff in the history section, and learn how they used to use coffee and the like in Ye Olden Times, maybe improve or work on some of those ideas until I can make them function, do you have any idea how cool that would be?!”

“It would be amazing,” Emile said with a laugh. “You know, though, you might have to save more of your money if you want to experiment with that sort of thing. We might not go out on so many dates.”

“I don’t care,” Remy breathed. “If I saved money, I could discover dozens of new recipes with good ingredients! I could almost open my own shop if I figured out those sorts of things!”

“That would be amazing,” Emile said with a grin. “Just remember, you don’t want to save up just enough to experiment and then not have any extra funds to repeat what you did and get that good sort of food again!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Remy agreed. “I’ll probably be saving up for several months, just to be sure.”

“Yeah, like...hold off until around...say, six months from now? Then experiment to your heart’s content. And don’t forget to keep track of what works and what doesn’t!” Emile said.

“I know, Emile, it’s  _ my _ system,” Remy said, grinning.

“I know you know, but a reminder never hurts,” Emile said with a shrug. “Anyway, I’ve done what I came to do, papers are finished, research is done, and I even got to send out a couple emails to friends. You ready to go?”

“Yeah, sure,” Remy said, closing the book and leaving it on the table.

They walked out into the parking lot and Emile laughed as it started to rain. “April showers,” he said.

“We live in the city, Emile, how many May flowers can there possibly be?” Remy asked.

Emile shrugged. “The first half of the rhyme applies, at least,” he said. “Still want to head to the shelter today?”

“Can we at least drive and park nearby? I don’t want to get absolutely drenched in the walk from home there, and then dry off only to get drenched again on the walk back,” Remy said.

Emile rolled his eyes up in thought and his fingers twitched. “I’m not sure what parking lots are near the shelter, do you know?”

“Yeah, I know a couple,” Remy said.

“Cool,” Emile said, tossing Remy the car keys and getting in.

Remy fell into the driver’s seat and he stuck the keys in the ignition, but he didn’t move beyond that. Emile glanced over. “You good, Rem?”

“Yeah,” Remy said, starting to life and starting the car. “Just thinking.”

“About anything in particular?” Emile asked.

Remy turned slightly red. “Toby,” he admitted. “I’m just wondering what he would think about me doing these sort of things with you. If he’d approve.”

“Why wouldn’t he?” Emile asked.

Remy sighed. “For all his protection and love, he still sometimes doesn’t understand certain things. Like, he gave me ‘The Talk’ when I told him I was gay. But he’d still make jokes in poor taste about gay or trans people. He understands that homeless people aren’t all homeless just because they’re lazy and can’t find a job, but he’s not proactive when it comes to helping them. He’s...not our parents, but he has some bad habits. Don’t get me wrong, I still love him! And he’s definitely gotten better the few times I would take him aside and explain why he shouldn’t say certain things. Fact remains that he’s got some views that aren’t...up to date.”

Emile didn’t know how to respond to that. Did that mean that Toby was actually like Remy’s parents? Did he hurt Remy, but Remy was so wrapped up in the fact that Toby kept him physically safe that he disregarded any emotional damage? “Do you think he’s capable of change? Realistically speaking.”

“Hm? Oh, yeah,” Remy agreed. “I’ve seen him change myself. From constantly making gay jokes when he was a kid to showing me compassion when I came out, all because one or two of his friends wound up being gay. He’s capable of change, for sure. He just...doesn’t always think about whether or not he  _ should _ change if something doesn’t immediately affect him or the people he cares about. He’s not like my parents, Emile.”

“I never said he was,” Emile said.

Remy glanced at him. “I know you were thinking about it, though. It’s not a big deal, you’re concerned for me and you didn’t directly call Toby a bad person. You checked to make sure he wasn’t like my parents before making a decision. I appreciate that.”

Emile nodded. “Of course. I try not to make snap judgements about people, but I did realize I made more snap judgements than I thought, especially when we talked about your parents. Now, I try and make it a point to gather information to make an informed decision, rather than just listening to one side of the story and making plans and expressing feelings based only on that.”

“Huh,” Remy said. “You’re capable of change, too. Nice to know.”

“Did you think I wasn’t?” Emile asked, confused.

“Not particularly,” Remy said, “But it’s always nice to have confirmation.”

Emile nodded, and when Remy parked in a lot that was just a block from the shelter, Emile arched his eyebrows. “I didn’t realize this lot was that close,” he said.

“This may be a city, Emile, but it’s a small one. I know my way around it pretty well,” Remy said, getting out of the car.

Emile grabbed Remy’s hand as they walked to the shelter. “One of the many things I love about you,” Emile said. “You’re incredibly smart.”

“I’m not,” Remy said, turning red. “I know how to use a checkbook, but that’s about it.”

“You’re smart with numbers, and with food, and you enjoy learning, just not conventionally,” Emile said. “You’re sharp, Rem, don’t sell yourself short.”

“Look, Emile, I can’t make a career out of any of those things. And before you mention there are lots of jobs where you need to be good with numbers,  _ I’m not becoming an accountant.” _

Emile laughed. “I wasn’t going to suggest that,” he said. “You’d die of boredom doing someone else’s financials within weeks. And I like you alive, thank you very much.”

Remy shook his head with a grin. “I don’t know what you see in me, Emile.”

“A brilliant man with a heart of gold who just has a little problem with expressing himself,” Emile said. “Someone who cares for people once he gets to know them, but is also pragmatic in how, exactly, he goes about helping those in need of advice. You make sure that you’re taken care of before you help others, and you keep my bleeding heart in check. You’re my partner in crime, my partner in general, and I couldn’t be happier about that fact.”

Remy was as red as a tomato and he groaned. “Emile,” he complained. “I can’t be blushing when we get to the shelter, it’ll ruin my cool image!”

Emile laughed. “Rem, since when have you  _ ever _ had a cool image there? You may be the top chef, but all the kids know you’re smitten for me, the adults know that you can help with financials and will at the drop of a hat if they merely ask. They know you’re nice.”

“Nice and cool are not mutually exclusive,” Remy retorted. “The kids have called me cool before, but if I show up with a huge blush over my face, they might see through the ruse!”

“And what would they see if they saw through it?” Emile asked.

“A gay disaster,” Remy deadpanned.

Emile burst out laughing. Remy always knew exactly what to say.


	61. Chapter 61

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love this chapter, it's one of the few times that I feel like I've successfully written pure fluff.

####  **June 26th, 1986**

Remy watched his mom rush around the house, cleaning up this and removing that, taking certain things off the shelves and kicking around his, Toby’s, and Vanessa’s toys. Remy squawked a little when she kicked Bones to the side, but Toby put a hand on Remy’s arm and went to grab Bones for him, coming back and giving Remy the stuffed toy. “Bones is okay, Remy,” Toby said, climbing back up on the couch.

Remy nodded. “Why’s Mom acting like this?”

“Guests are coming over, and she wants everything to look perfect. This is how she gets everything perfect,” Toby said. “It’s also why we usually go to others’ houses and why they don’t come here.”

Remy made a soft, “Oh.” Then, “But did she  _ have _ to kick Bones? He’s important, he shouldn’t get kicked around!”

Toby just shrugged. “Who knows why Mom does what she does?”

####  **April 20th, 2002**

Remy paced the apartment, tweaking this and adjusting that, trying to make sure that everything was mostly neat. Emile stood at the edge of the kitchen, laughing, but Remy didn’t see what was funny about this. “Emile, your parents are coming over and you’re not even helping clean up!”

“There’s nothing to clean up,” Emile said. “We don’t even have half a pantry to organize.”

Remy froze. “We don’t have food! Emile! How am I supposed to help host your parents if I can’t  _ cook _ for them?!”

“Breathe, Rem,” Emile soothed. “My parents said they were coming over with some groceries, because they didn’t want us to break the bank trying to feed four people.”

“Emile, you’re missing the point!” Remy fretted. “This is the first time they’re seeing our apartment! I want to give them a good impression, and show that we’re capable!”

“They already know we’re capable, Rem,” Emile said. “And they know that we can fend for ourselves, as evidenced by New Year’s Eve.”

Remy turned when Emile mentioned New Year’s Eve. Emile’s face was neutral enough, but almost looked impassive. “Honey, you okay?” Remy asked. “You never bring up New Year’s.”

Emile shrugged. “It doesn’t hurt like it used to, but I don’t like talking about it, so I usually don’t.”

Remy nodded. “I don’t suppose you’ve thought about...what’s going to happen this year?”

“Haven’t really wanted to,” Emile admitted. “But it’s a ways off anyway. I’m not gonna freak out about that yet.”

Remy nodded. There was a knock at the door and he jumped about a foot in the air. Emile snickered and went to open the door, chirping, “Hi, Mom! Hi, Dad!”

Looking around, Remy couldn’t see anywhere he could inconspicuously clean last-minute, and he inwardly groaned before following Emile to the door. He could help but smile when he saw Emile’s parents standing there, suitcases and groceries in hand. “You look like you’re coming armed to feed an army!” he exclaimed. “You know that you didn’t need to bring any groceries at all, right? If Emile had given me more notice, I would have saved up some money for meals.”

“The whole point of us bringing groceries is so you wouldn’t have to do that, Remy,” Emile’s mom tutted. “We didn’t want you to worry.”

“Well, now that you’re here, can I at least take the groceries  _ in?” _ Remy asked.

“Oh, let me help, at least,” Emile’s mom said and Remy took the bags that Emile’s dad had been holding, while Emile’s mom set down her suitcase and brought in the groceries she had, and the two of them went to the kitchen.

“Don’t burn anything!” Emile’s dad joked, and Emile’s mother sent him a fake glare.

“You know my sorting system is far better than yours, and you’re just jealous,” she said.

Remy laughed and began to put everything away, Emile’s mom working around him and Emile talking to his dad in low tones that Remy couldn’t hear as they brought in the suitcases. Probably about Emile’s grandfather, though, if Emile’s face was anything to go by. Not to mention, his hands were shoved in his pockets, which he did when he wanted to hide them trembling.

Somehow, Emile and Remy wound up in the living room as Emile’s mom and dad were getting set up in the guest room, which mostly consisted of pushing Remy and Emile’s old full beds together to let them sleep next to each other. Emile was watching cartoons and Remy was sitting upside-down on the couch, legs crossed as he read one of Emile’s old novels.

Emile’s mom walked out of the guest room and tutted. “Remy, you’ll crack your skull open if you’re not careful.”

“Relax, Mom, I’ve done this easily a thousand times by now,” Remy said off-hand, waving one hand around dramatically before returning to reading.

It took a full minute of the only sound coming from TV for Remy to look up and notice both Emile and his mom staring at him. “What?” he asked.

“You...you called my mom ‘Mom,’” Emile explained.

“Oh. Did I? Sorry,” Remy said, wincing. “But I mean, that’s who she is, though, right?”

“To me,” Emile said. “You’ve never called her ‘Mom’ before.”

“Ah,” Remy said, not entirely sure what to do with this information. He wasn’t going to be in trouble for this, was he? They couldn’t very well kick him out—this was his apartment as much as it was Emile’s. But that didn’t mean everyone was automatically okay with what he said.

Emile’s dad walked out of the bedroom and asked, “What’s going on?”

“Remy is finally accepting that he’s part of the family,” Emile’s mom said, slowly beaming.

“Oh? What did he do?” Emile’s dad asked.

An idea struck Remy and he shrugged, saying, “You know I’m right here and you can ask me yourself, right, Dad?”

Emile’s dad made a surprised squeak as Remy turned back to the book with a grin. Emile poked Remy in the stomach and Remy flipped off the couch and onto the floor with a squawk as a result. “Emile!” he exclaimed. “Not cool!”

“You’re not even going to acknowledge that you just made my parents’ day?” Emile asked.

Remy took a breath. “Well, once I realized they weren’t going to be mad at me for it, I decided I didn’t need to read the situation as closely. So I guess I missed the part of the conversation where calling people who I consider my parents ‘Mom’ and ‘Dad’ suddenly means that everything is covered in rainbows and sunshine and glitter,” he said drily.

“Get up off the floor and let them hug you,” Emile instructed, kicking Remy’s foot. “Better to get it out of the way now.”

Remy placed the book on the TV stand and stood, only to immediately get crushed in a hug by both Emile’s parents. Emile’s mom also proceeded to kiss Remy’s cheek and Emile’s dad ruffled Remy’s hair. “Wow, I can only imagine what it’ll be like whenever I’m legally part of your family, if just calling you Mom and Dad did  _ this _ much.”

Emile laughed and said, “Well, if they don’t die of happiness on the spot, you’ll most certainly be getting this but about ten-fold.”

“Good to know,” Remy said, turning to Emile as slowly, Emile’s parents let him go.

“You said that you see me as your mother and you expect me to not be overjoyed by that?” Emile’s mom asked.

“Well...uh...usually comparisons to motherhood aren’t...uh...compliments, considering my history,” Remy said with a shrug. “But...yeah, you just...you’re more a mother to me than my own mother ever was,” he turned to Emile’s dad, “And the same is true with you compared to my own dad.”

Both of Emile’s parents were still looking overjoyed, and Remy mumbled, “Emile, did I break them?”

“No,” Emile laughed. “You didn’t break them. They’ll be back to normal in fifteen minutes or so. Until then, you’d better be ready for unbridled adoration and attention from them.”

“Oh,” Remy said simply. What was he supposed to say? Honestly, he didn’t expect this to happen, it just sort of did, he had no—

“For what it’s worth, Remy, I’m proud of you. It’s not easy to be honest and open about that sort of thing, and even if you started by accident, you finished with purpose. That’s amazing, son.”

—Expectations. Huh. Emile’s dad, at least, was proud. Apparently. Remy didn’t fully understand why.

Emile’s mom hugged him again and said, “I hope you realize this makes us adopting you practically official.”

Remy laughed. “I mean, you might get me as a son-in-law yet. Don’t doubt Emile’s courting abilities.”

“Remy, my son is many things. Loving, excitable, smart...but nowhere on that list is ‘suave,’ ‘charismatic,’ or any other words related to romancing someone,” Emile’s mom said.

Remy laughed. “Well, he seemed to successfully catch me, I don’t know what to tell you, Mom.”

“That he did, and we’re still not sure how he did it,” Emile’s mom said. “Considering that we all know him, it’s a bit of a mystery.”

“Hey!” Emile exclaimed indignantly, and Remy laughed.

“Nah, he’s not  _ that _ bad! And the fact that I know him makes it all the better, you know? All of his quirks are  _ endearing _ to me,” Remy said.

Emile’s dad grinned. “And to think, two years ago you couldn’t have gotten away from him fast enough. He’s done a number on you!”

“That’s one way to put it, yeah,” Remy laughed. “I like to think that he just sort of...punched a hole in my walls until he could comfortably walk in, and you can figure out the rest.”

Emile rolled his eyes. “I didn’t punch a hole in your walls, Remy, I took a jackhammer to them, or maybe some TNT. They were too thick for me to just punch through. I took drastic measures.”

Remy frowned, and turned to Emile. “What?”

“What, you think that I would move in with just anyone, to save money on tuition and to keep said person alive? Usually, I’d set them up with a friend, or something. But once it became clear what your situation was, I  _ knew _ that desperate times called for desperate measures.” Emile shrugged. “Not that you didn’t like me by that point, but you didn’t  _ like _ me like me for a good while after that.”

Remy blinked. “I just thought...you were that sort of person,” he said faintly.

“I...no,” Emile said, standing and walking over to Remy. “That’s something specific to you. I hope that doesn’t change your perception of me?”

“It changes it, all right,” Remy said, his eyes clouding with tears. He hugged Emile close. “It makes me love you even more.”

Emile made a soft surprised noise and Remy just held him tighter. “You...okay, Rem?”

Remy was crying by this point, softly, and close to silent, but not quite there. “I just thought...I just always thought you’d do everything in your power to help people. And...and you do, don’t get me wrong. But...there’s a difference between helping two friends who need a roommate finding one and moving in with one friend who was literally dying just to make sure they can go on. You could have set me up with a friend, whether or not that ended well. You could have helped me find a place I could conceivably afford on my own. But...but you chose to move in with me. You weren’t obligated to, but you cared about me enough that you did. And I just...I love you.”

Emile laughed just a little as he hugged Remy back. “I love you too, in case it wasn’t obvious by now.”

Remy just buried his head in Emile’s shoulder. Emile laughed. “Aw, c’mon, Rem, it’s all good. I’m just relieved this doesn’t make you think that I see you as a pity case.”

“You never have pity cases in your eyes,” Remy said, swiping away his tears. “Learned that one, at least, a long while back.”

Emile sighed with a smile. “You see, I doubt you would have believed that so whole-heartedly even a year ago. I’m glad that you know it now.”

Remy huffed. “Hey, I caught on eventually, I’m not  _ completely _ hopeless.”

“You’re not hopeless, period,” Emile said simply. “Unless, of course, we’re talking about love, in which case you are  _ absolutely _ a hopeless lovesick puppy in a leather jacket.”

“Hey!” Remy exclaimed, punching Emile lightly in the arm. “Am not!”

“Are so!” Emile sang. “And just FYI, if you want to make dinner at a reasonable hour, you should probably start now.”

Remy fumed at Emile before turning to Emile’s parents. “Mom, Dad, I’m confiscating your son so I can argue with him while I make dinner. Kick back, make yourselves at home. I’ll get everything ready tonight and you’re free to argue with me tomorrow about helping with breakfast. Sound good?”

Emile’s mom nodded, pushing Emile’s dad down onto the couch despite his protests. “I’ll keep him here,” Emile’s mom said with a wink. “Go ahead and do your thing.”

Remy grinned before dragging Emile to the kitchen, arguing that he was  _ not _ a lovesick puppy for the next five minutes, minimum.


	62. Chapter 62

####  **October 5th, 1992**

“So...what exactly is a trust fund?” Emile asked, cocking his head to the side.

“It’s a bank account where your money can stay safe and sound until you can spend it as an adult,” his grandfather said. “When you’re twenty one, you’ll be able to use it for whatever you want.”

“That’s  _ ten years _ from now!” Emile groaned. “That’s gonna take forever!”

“It will creep up on you faster than you think,” his grandfather said. “But your grandmother wanted to make sure you’d be responsible with the money, so that’s why you have to wait.”

Emile sighed. He understood, but he didn’t like it. “Does this mean Mom and Dad aren’t gonna give me an allowance any more?”

“I don’t think so!” his grandfather laughed. “After all, the money is of no use if you can’t exactly use it yet! They should still give you money you can use for whatever you want as an allowance.”

“Oh! That’s okay then,” and Emile ran off to finish the book he had been reading before his grandfather called him in to talk about Grandma’s will.

####  **May 3rd, 2002**

Emile could hardly believe it. Today was his twenty first birthday, and he had driven out to the nearest branch of the bank his grandmother used to set up his trust fund all those years ago. He had never been told the exact amount of money that was put in the fund, just given an estimate of somewhere around one hundred fifty thousand dollars.

Grandma  _ definitely _ knew how to invest, and because his great-grandfather had been a self-starter and had gotten a modest alcohol business off the ground, his grandmother had inherited half of that money, the other half going to his great uncle, her brother. And Emile was the only grandchild she had when she died, so all the money she didn’t leave with his grandfather, she decided to save away for him.

Still, though, Emile’s breath was blown away when he talked to the bank manager and saw the number for himself. Two hundred fifteen thousand dollars. If he wasn’t already sitting down, his legs would have given out from underneath him. He had wondered how his grandparents could afford the house they had, but this number cleared up any questions he might have had.

“God,” Emile breathed, still staring at the number on the screen.

The bank manager looked him over. “You look like you’re about to pass out, do you need some water?”

“I’ll...” Emile choked on his words. “I’ll be okay,” he breathed.

“Your grandmother was a very lucky woman,” the bank manager said.

“Luck was her being born into the family she was. Smarts are what made her be able to get everything she needed and have this much money left over,” Emile said.

The bank manager looked pleased. “You’re rather insightful yourself,” he said. “I know this seems like a lot of money to you, but I hope I don’t have to explain to you how fast that money can go away if you’re not careful.”

“No, believe me, I know,” Emile said, sucking in a breath. “Oh, God. I was planning on investing most, if not all, of the money I inherited, but this is a much larger number than I anticipated.”

The bank manager sniffed a laugh. “Son, this is hardly the largest trust fund this bank has seen.”

“This alone could pay off my college debts,” Emile said, deathly serious. “It’s a lot of money to a broke college kid who’s been working retail to make ends meet with his partner working two jobs just to stay afloat.”

“I see your point,” the manager conceded. “But don’t spend it all in one place, you understand? This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

“Oh, believe me, I know,” Emile said, swallowing. “I could buy a house, or pay off my debts, or any number of things. But I’ll probably be investing it for the time being, watching it grow a little before I decide exactly what I’m going to do with it.”

“You’re smarter than most of the college-aged kids who get these sorts of funds,” the manager said, leading Emile out. “We’ll have the money ready for withdrawal in a couple days. Until then, think wisely on what you’re going to invest in, all right?”

Emile mutely nodded as the manager left him to walk into the front of the bank, and Remy stood up from where he was waiting on a bench. “Hey, there, stranger!” he teased. “What did they say?”

“Oh, God, let’s get to the car first, okay?” Emile said. “You’re going to freak.”

“That much?” Remy laughed. They left and got into the car, Remy looking over at Emile. “So what was it? One hundred fifty thousand, like your parents said?”

“Apparently...my parents low-balled the estimate,” Emile said, sounding slightly hysterical. “I have over two hundred fifteen thousand dollars in that account.”

“What?!” Remy asked, incredulous. “Emile, you’re rich!”

Emile laughed. “Apparently the bank has had much higher trust funds than even that, but yeah, I’m...I don’t understand how I got to be that lucky.”

“What are you going to do with it?” Remy asked.

“Honestly? I think I’m going to be boring and invest most of it,” Emile said.

“Get more money? Hey, no complaints from me,” Remy said. “You could quit your job and we’d be fine.”

“I’m going to keep working,” Emile said. “That money isn’t going to last forever, and if I use it towards what I want to use it for...well, that’s going to take a huge chunk of change.”

Remy looked over. “What are you thinking of using it for?”

“Possibly a house?” Emile said, driving away, slightly sheepish. “Like. Property and stuff. Health insurance. Boring things that I can suddenly afford. But I want to invest most of it first.”

“Makes sense,” Remy said with a nod.

“Would you want to quit one of your jobs?” Emile asked. “Because I can afford to pay a little more rent now, you only need one job...”

“I mean...” Remy sighed. “It would be nice to only have one job, but I don’t want you to spend any more money on me than you have to.”

“Remy, you’re my boyfriend, of course I’m going to spend money on you now that I have money to spend!” Emile insisted. “You’d better get used to it, because now that we can afford to not go to thrift shops when we wear something through, you’d better believe I’m going to offer to go to retail stores!”

Remy laughed. “Oh, we’re really rolling in it!” he crowed. “We can afford new shirts!”

“You’d better believe it!” Emile exclaimed with a laugh. When his laughter died down, he glanced at Remy. “So, did you apply for the manager position opening up?”

“Yeah, I did,” Remy sighed. “But the manager told me, point-blank, that he didn’t expect me to get it. Nothing against my work ethic, but they wanted someone who had credentials. Like, degree-in-business credentials.” Remy pulled a disgusted face. “As if I didn’t know anything that goes into managing a coffee shop.”

Emile wrinkled his nose. “That sucks.” He considered, and figured now was as good a time to poke the bear as any. “Would you want to start your own shop? In all honesty?”

“I mean, honestly? At this point? Yes,” Remy said. “Neither store is going to promote me, and I don’t want to work two jobs for the rest of my life. I don’t have the funds to buy a property, but if I saved up enough to rent, then maybe I could do my own thing.”

“Rem, you realize that  _ I _ have enough money to help you on the property front?” Emile asked.

“Emile, no, I would never ask that of you,” Remy said. “I can save money on my own, I’ve been doing that for two months now. And it’s not a lot, but it can add up. If your investments are working out, maybe I can invest in the same things. I could get enough money to start up on my own. Might take a couple years, but I would get the money for the property, as well as the food and the staff and everything needed inside. I could get enough for the first few months of the shop just by saving until December, if I played my cards right.”

“Really?” Emile asked. He had been considering December for checking his funds, checking the market, and getting property for Remy to start the coffee shop. But if this lined up  _ that perfectly, _ there was no way he could turn it down.

“Really,” Remy confirmed. “You don’t need impossibly huge amounts of money to start up a business if you know what you’re doing, and some of our friends are social butterflies, which means free advertising, and if I come up with my own unique recipes for the shop, and come up with coffee blends that by and large our friends like but the shops I currently work for wouldn’t be caught dead selling, well! I’d be officially in business!”

Emile laughed. “So, that’s something you want to try? You want to try to start your own shop?”

Remy deflated a little. “I want it...but can I actually do it? I mean, I could definitely run a shop, but there’s so many factors I don’t know about. I  _ want _ to try, to see if I can do it, but if it fails...that’s so much money gone to waste. The biggest hurdle would be the space, and if I can afford the space to give it a try, but I can’t keep the shop afloat, that’s easily thousands of dollars down the drain.”

“Remy, if you think you can do it, I say you save up to give it a try,” Emile said. “You have the confidence and the culinary skill to keep a shop afloat. All it would take is the right advertising and the right people to find you, and you’d have business in no time at all. Go for it. We both invest our money, get the rewards and use them to fund whatever dreams both of us have.”

Remy still seemed uncertain. “I want to, Emile...I really want to. But I can’t stop thinking about the possibility of it going under.”

“If it goes under, it goes under. You get a different job so no one says ‘I told you so’ and we continue on. If you get a good enough property, we might be able to use it as an apartment of sorts,” Remy laughed at that, and Emile smiled as he continued, “It’s not the end of the world if something you try doesn’t succeed, Rem. But I think that this has a really good chance at succeeding.”

Remy nodded. “All right. I’ll save up the money and give it a try for you,” he said. “Do you know what you’re going to do with your money outside investing it?”

“I have a couple ideas, but nothing solid,” Emile said. He didn’t mention that Dice had agreed to take Emile’s job offer and was going to look for Toby. He didn’t want Remy to get his hopes up, and he  _ definitely _ didn’t want Remy to demand he save the money because he thought it was a fruitless venture.

“Well, when you get some solid plans, let me know, okay?” Remy asked. “Because I want to know if we can get strawberries  _ and _ blueberries for pancakes for breakfast.”

Emile laughed. “Of course, we can get more fruit. And better ingredients that aren’t just on discount. If you want, we can go shopping right now as a little celebration?”

“Sure! When do you get the money?” Remy asked.

“Couple of days,” Emile laughed. “They couldn’t afford to give me that much money all at once, because it’s a small branch and I’d be taking  _ all _ of their hundred-dollar bills.”

Remy shook his head. “You’re Mister Rich Kid, now, you realize,” he said. “And you’re never living that title down, not once I let our friends know.”

“Oh, God, I hadn’t even thought about that!” Emile laughed. “Our friends could hardly believe I had a trust fund  _ at all, _ let alone one that potentially had over a hundred thousand dollars! They’re all going to freak!”

“Even more than I will when this whole day finally sinks in,” Remy said sagely. “It’s going to take some getting used to, having wiggle room in case we screw up.”

Emile turned the car on the road they took to the supermarket. “It’s going to be nice, though,” Emile said. “We buy some food we don’t like, we’re not, y’know, obligated to eat all of it because that’s the only food we have for that night.”

“We can buy stupid things like movies that we don’t know if we like because we didn’t get the chance to see it in theatres,” Remy pointed out.

“We can go to see those movies in the theatre in the first place,” Emile pointed out.

“True!” Remy exclaimed. “Emile. This is. The best!”

Emile laughed.


	63. Chapter 63

####  **October 17th, 2000**

Remy shook his head as he trudged around campus. He hated this. He hated this whole thing. The only thing that made college bearable was the idea that he might get a paying job from it, but he didn’t even have that job security for certain, so really, why was he here?

A familiar voice called his name from across the quad and Remy turned, rolling his eyes as Emile ran up to him excitedly. Yeah, college was annoying, and Emile could be a bit of a nuisance, but he was at least a familiar nuisance. And if Emile wanted to hang out with Remy, well, Remy wasn’t going to stop him, even if he didn’t see what Emile saw in him.

####  **May 20th, 2002**

Remy kept the frustrated tears at bay for as long as it took for him to clock out at Starbucks and walk down the side, to the back parking lot. Once there, he punched the dumpster that was backed up against the building and a few tears slipped out from pain and from anger. He was beyond pissed, and he didn’t know why. He had seen this coming. He  _ knew _ they weren’t going to pick him to become the new manager. And yet, when he heard the news, it  _ still _ felt like his hopes shattered into a million pieces.

“It went that badly, huh?” Emile asked from behind him.

Remy turned swiping at the tears on his cheeks to find Emile standing there, hands in his pockets. “Yeah,” he settled on saying.

“I’m sorry, my love,” Emile said, closing the distance between them and hugging Remy close. “You don’t deserve to be overlooked just because you don’t want a degree.”

“They didn’t even pick from the store,” Remy said. “They brought in someone else who doesn’t know the system, just because they have that stupid Bachelor’s.”

Emile winced and Remy sighed. “I mean, I saw it coming that I wouldn’t get the job, but seriously? Outside? Not even from another store, just someone who’s never worked there before. We’re gonna have to teach him  _ everything _ in the span of maybe two weeks!” He shook his head. “Emile, I’m really sick of this.”

“I know you are,” Emile said.

“One day, I can quit this crappy job and be my own person,” Remy said. “One day.”

Emile nodded as he lead Remy to the car. “And that day will be amazing,” Emile agreed. “Until then, we should probably ice your hand and make sure nothing’s broken.”

Remy sighed. Punching the dumpster was a dumb move, but at the very least, it beat punching brick wall. “Yeah,” he said flatly.

Emile drove them home and Remy leaned back into the chair, trying to stop crying. All he was getting for his troubles was a headache and more tears. “My head hurts,” Remy griped.

“Not surprised,” Emile said. “Do you need to take some ibuprofen when we get back?”

“I don’t think so,” Remy said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I just need to get over myself.”

“Hey, hey,” Emile said, pulling into the parking lot. “You have every right to be upset, Rem, that’s an upsetting thing. You don’t have to ‘get over yourself.’”

Remy grumbled, “Then why am I getting so worked up over something I knew would happen?”

Emile shrugged. “I’m not inside your head, Rem, I can’t speak for you. If I had to hazard a guess, it’s because hiring someone from outside the company just adds insult to injury.”

Remy laughed hollowly. “Understatement,” he groused, getting out of the car and inspecting his hand. It was swelling a little, but didn’t immediately come across as “broken,” which was a promising sign. “You ever break a bone, Emile?” he asked.

“Uh...not that I remember. There were a couple close calls, but nothing ever broke. I did once dislocate my knee,” Emile said.

Remy winced. “Ouch. How?”

“One of my friends took martial arts classes, and taught me and some of our friends some of the moves, but we didn’t do much stretching before we tried it...and I wound up with a lot of pain the next day in gym class, to where I could barely walk.”

“Ooh!” Remy exclaimed, hissing. “That’s pretty bad.”

“Yep, six weeks of physical therapy, a knee brace, the whole deal,” Emile said. “You break a bone?”

“I fractured my wrist at like...age six.” Remy laughed. “I was running down the sidewalk, and I assume I tripped, because the next thing I know, my wrist feels like it’s on fire and I’m sprawled on the ground. Went to school the next day, couldn’t use scissors without pain, went to the nurse, and she pretty much knew it was broken within five minutes of seeing it. Called my mom, they took me to the doctor’s, got X-rays, and I got a sick-looking cast.”

“Your mom sent you to school with a broken wrist?” Emile asked incredulously.

Remy shrugged. “She didn’t know how to identify a broken bone, she just assumed I cried for half an hour because, y’know, I’ve always been a crybaby.  _ You _ got sent to school with a dislocated knee!”

“Because it didn’t really start hurting until gym class,” Emile said. “If a six year old cries for half an hour over tripping on a sidewalk, something’s up.”

Remy waved off Emile’s concern. “Eh, she apologized about it later. It wasn’t the end of the world, and because it happened during the school year, I still had two months where I could swim in the pool after the cast came off.”

Emile squinted at Remy and Remy rolled his eyes. “What?”

“You’re excusing your mother’s actions again.”

“She didn’t know, Emile,” Remy said. As they got inside the apartment and Emile gave Remy an ice pack, Remy continued, “You don’t have to know everything about injuries to become a parent.”

“No, but I still think crying for half an hour over a trip should be investigated. And if a school nurse can identify the injury that quickly, shouldn’t the parent be a tad bit suspicious before the kid leaves for school? Because obviously there would be swelling.”

Remy shrugged. “Listen, this wasn’t too bad. She was just forgetful in this case,” he defended. “She’s done worse,  _ you’ve _ seen her do worse.”

Emile pinched the bridge of his nose. “Did she dismiss other health concerns?”

“I didn’t  _ tell her _ about other health concerns, like in high school when everyone was turning against me except Toby. She couldn’t dismiss what she wasn’t told about.”

“But you didn’t tell her because she would dismiss it?” Emile questioned. “That seems to be what you’re implying.”

“Okay, she brushed off some things in middle school, things that I don’t even remember because I blocked them out. They couldn’t be too severe if I’m still standing here, though,” Remy brushed off.

Emile sighed and Remy inwardly grimaced. He knew that sigh. It was the sigh Emile got whenever he thought Remy was dismissing key parts of his mental health. “Remy...”

“Can we just agree to drop this subject and let me return to bitching about not getting the manager position?” Remy requested. “I know my mom wasn’t on top of it. I know she was bad. And we just disagree about how severe this infraction was. I agree that she should have done  _ something, _ at least  _ asked _ me why I was crying so much, but she didn’t. It’s over. Done with. Has been for years. I just want to gripe.”

Emile sighed. “Okay, fine. Let’s just talk about what’s going on in the here and now.”

Remy nodded his thanks. “I don’t think my hand is broken,” he said idly. “It would be swelling more if that was the case. Even with ice, it would look different.”

“Agreed,” Emile said. “You still shouldn’t have punched the dumpster.”

“It was that or the brick wall,” Remy said drily.

Emile shook his head. “Rem, you worry me, to this day.”

“Yeah, well. I’m getting better at controlling my anger, it just...needs an outlet, and I couldn’t hold it back further without risking lashing out, so I took it out on the closest inanimate object to me,” Remy said.

Emile rolled his eyes and took the ice pack off Remy’s hand to kiss the knuckles. “You may be an impulsive man, but you’re  _ my _ impulsive man. And I’m proud that you’re working to control the more angry impulses.”

Remy offered Emile a smirk. “I thought you liked it when things got heated.”

“Not in this context,” Emile laughed.

Remy grinned, before looking at his hand and sighing. “Man, I wish I could be running my own shop right about now.”

“Hey, one day,” Emile said, squeezing Remy’s shoulder.

“Yeah, but that’s going to take so long,” Remy sighed. “Too long. I’ll still have to deal with this new manager, and what happens if I can’t hide my resentment well enough?”

“Remy, I know this probably doesn’t help, but I’m fairly sure you can hide your disdain behind your customer service smile. You’re consistently way better at that than I am. He might know it’s fake, he might not. Regardless, he can’t hold you accountable so long as you don’t say how you really feel about him and you keep smiling.”

“I don’t want to keep smiling,” Remy sighed. “I want to be able to be mad, and to cry, and I want people to know that I’m human.”

“Unfortunately, the downside of working in food service or retail hell is that a lot of people  _ won’t _ see you as human,” Emile said knowingly. “But you’re always free to be human around me, and our friends, and anyone else we run into when you’re not working.”

“I know,” Remy grumbled. Didn’t change the fact that he didn’t want to put up with this.

“Rem, time will pass without you realizing it, and one day, you’re going to wake up, and realize you have the money and power to start your own coffee shop, and you’re going to absolutely crush it,” Emile said with conviction. “Trust me. It might be hard to see right now, but you’re destined for greatness.”

That, at least, got Remy to laugh. He both loved and hated when Emile got all storybook cliché on him. “I would disagree about the destiny thing,” Remy said. “I carve my own destiny.”

“Exactly why it’s true,” Emile replied smoothly. “You don’t wait around looking for your purpose, you go out and make a purpose that fits you.”

“I would argue that I wouldn’t  _ make _ the purpose. Plenty of people have dropped out of college before. Many people have become entrepreneurs. It’s not exactly a unique path,” Remy brushed off.

“Yeah, but it still goes against the norms of what people expect of you. Instead of just going with the flow, you’re standing tall. And nothing can push you around if you don’t let it. Honestly it’s...pretty inspiring,” Emile said.

Remy laughed. “Please, Emile. I don’t have this heart-stopping origin story that you’re making this out to be.”

“I don’t know,” Emile said with a shrug. “I just think that you’re pretty impressive. If I were in your position, I wouldn’t have ever gotten this far.”

“I mean, I think you could have gotten out of my family situation before I ever did, and made a name for yourself however you wanted,” Remy said with a shrug in return.

Emile offered a slightly bitter smile, which surprised Remy. “Rem, believe me when I say that the only reason you believe that is because my parents taught me how to stand up for myself. You learned how to stand up on your own. No one taught you. If I had been in your position, I probably wouldn’t have lasted through high school. You’re impossibly strong.”

Remy shrugged. “I mean, I guess I’m strong. I’m taking you at your word on that, but I didn’t learn how to stand up on my own. You’re the one who taught me that.”

Emile shook his head. “No, Rem, I may have shown you where to stand tall and demand respect, but even before I met you, you were trying to make your own way in the world. Studying business over accounting, remember? That was all _you._ _You’ve_ got what it takes to make _your_ own place in the world. And if I were a betting man, I’d put all my money on you.”

Remy stood there, shocked into silence for a good minute. He didn’t know what Emile saw in him to cause that sort of conviction, but he knew that Emile was serious in this. And he wasn’t about to disappoint Emile. He smiled. He would get through this. He’d get through it and go his own way, sooner or later. “I love you too, Emile.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick announcement: I'm changing the update schedule for this story from once every three days to every Friday. I'm not abandoning the story, but if I want to keep a consistent update schedule with both this and my other stories, I need to cut myself a little more slack than I've been giving myself. Thank you for understanding!


	64. Chapter 64

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for missing the update day yesterday, everyone! Truth be told, I was in court, getting everything set up for ya boy's name change. (I'm hyped for it!)

####  **July 5th, 1991**

Emile hated this part of the game. They were so close to figuring out the mystery, it was just a race as to who could get the last clue first. Faith rolled the dice and cheered when she managed to get into a room and say, “It was Miss Scarlet with the rope in the Conservatory,” opening the envelope and displaying the cards proudly.

Shaking his head, Emile leaned back with a groan as all their other friends were in various stages of disbelief. “You’re too good at this, Faith,” he grumbled.

“Hey, you only have yourself to blame for teaching me your strategy!” Faith crowed.

“I know, I know,” Emile grumbled. “Anyone want to play a game other than Clue now?”

Everyone except Faith raised their hands.

####  **June 8th, 2002**

Emile shifted where he sat, glancing around the nondescript café that Dice had told him to meet at. Emile didn’t understand why exactly he couldn’t just go to Dice’s office, but Dice was insistent that the meet be here, and Emile wasn’t in a position to argue. He fiddled with the tea in his hands. Remy was at work, thankfully, so he didn’t have to know that Emile was heading here when he left.

In an instant, a man who looked like he stepped straight out of a magazine with jet black hair and piercing eyes fell into the chair opposite him. “Emile Thomas?” he asked.

Emile blinked. “Um. Yes. How did you—”

“—Brief description you gave me coupled with your nervousness gave it away,” the man said with a smirk. “Dice Anton. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Emile said, shaking Dice’s hand. “What have you managed to pick up since you accepted the case?”

Dice scoffed. “It’s been a month and already I can tell you this will be a tough nut to crack. You better be ready to pay up more than you first thought, because I’ve looked around a twenty-five mile radius from Fairview and not one of my friends has heard of a Tobias Picani.”

Emile felt his heart sink. That was all this guy had after a month? “So we have nothing?” Emile asked.

“Now, I never said that,” Dice said, holding up a finger. “My friends are talking to their friends, and I do know the general area that your buddy Remy grew up in. With a little leg work, I can find the house he grew up in. And that’s where I’d start.”

“How so? I doubt Remy’s parents would give Toby’s number to a stranger, especially a stranger asking after him specifically,” Emile said skeptically.

“Well, there’s two ways to go about it: either I befriend these parents of your buddies and flip through their address books when they’re not looking, or I do what I do best; I take the information I have and use it to predict people’s movements. Usually I can find people in...oh, six months with that approach.” Dice held up a hand before Emile could speak. “But I suspect this one will take longer, Mister Thomas. If my buddies around here haven’t heard of a Tobias Picani, that’s saying something. Because my buddies around here have ears all over the state, and beyond. A few of them are internet savvy and none of them even found a single social media page for a Tobias Picani.”

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” Emile said, a determined glint in his eyes. “I want to find him, for Remy’s sake.”

Dice shook his head. “You must really care for this guy, Mister Thomas. I’ll warn you, though, that anyone with as low an Internet profile as this Tobias, usually has a sinister reason or two. Not necessarily criminal activity, but possibly stalkers, controlling family, controlling family that become stalkers...”

“Oh, well, Remy’s mother is definitely not above stalking,” Emile said. “So that’s a distinct possibility.”

Dice grimaced. “Yeesh. I’m not looking forward to this. I’m doing it, don’t get me wrong, because rent is rent. But it’s not going to be an easy job.”

Emile shifted uncomfortably. If the experienced PI was saying that this was a difficult job, he didn’t know what he would be able to do on his own, without extensive resources. “So, in terms of updates, is there a specific schedule?”

Dice sighed. “Usually I either do updates every other week, or when I get new information, but you’re a special case. I would recommend once a month, to cut down on your expenses. If I come across anything new within that time I’ll email you, and if we need to meet in person sooner I’ll say so. But once a month is a safe bet.”

Emile sighed. This really  _ was _ going to be difficult for Dice, if he was recommending that. “All right. Well, thank you,” Emile said.

Dice nodded. “Of course. You have the fees for the last month?”

Emile nodded and passed an envelope with cash across the table. “Can’t have Remy looking through my finances and realizing I’m routing money to someone he doesn’t know,” Emile explained at Dice’s look.

“You’re smarter than you look, then,” Dice said with a snort. “I’ll email you where and when we meet next month, sound good?”

“Yeah,” Emile said with a nod.

Dice left without another word, and Emile sipped his tea. Dice seemed rather abrupt, and slightly abrasive, but he clearly knew what he was doing. Emile stood and left the café, walking to his car with a sigh. He had to get to work soon, and he wasn’t looking forward to it. Too many children running around with little to no supervision over the summer months, purely because the parents seemed too busy to keep track of their kids. Emile didn’t understand it. Were he a father, he would want to keep an eye on his kids at all times, or at the very least keep them within a set area with a designated meet-up point.

Emile shook himself free of his thoughts and headed to work, where almost immediately after he clocked in he was swarmed by a gaggle of wild PTA moms, their tiny children running around and pulling things off the shelves at random, and causing so much noise Emile could barely hear himself think as the magic of retail autopilot kicked in.

He directed person after person to the aisles they were looking for, tried to tidy up the toys and clothes sections, only to have them destroyed the second another kid found their way to it. He hated retail hell, and couldn’t wait for the day when he got his own therapy practice. There, at least, he could choose  _ when _ kids destroyed his office.

The pandemonium of summer continued, and he barely got the chance to acknowledge his coworkers as they passed each other in the aisles, it was so busy. Emile tried to keep himself occupied with happy thoughts to keep his blood pressure from rising too high. Remy and him cuddling at home after a long day today. Their plans to go to a pride parade later in the month. Unfortunately, it wasn’t working super well.

Towards the end of his shift Emile was on total autopilot, the only reason he was standing up straight and not trudging around being over a year of practice. Someone tapped him on the shoulder and Emile only barely stopped flinching as he turned around and started his usual spiel. “Hi, how can I help you today?”

All he got in return for that was a laugh and Emile blinked, really  _ looking _ at who was standing in front of him, and laughing himself when he saw Remy standing there. “Oh, honey, you’re  _ so _ out of it,” Remy laughed.

“Yeah, long day today,” Emile sighed. He took off his glasses, cleaning them on his shirt before replacing them with a pained smile. “Too many kids keep undoing my work as soon as I finish, and I’m called away before I can tidy it up again.”

“I don’t envy you in the slightest,” Remy laughed, checking his watch. “Still, it’s five o’clock, now. Time for you to clock out.”

“Thank God,” Emile breathed. Remy cracked up and Emile shook his head. “You’ve said worse when your  _ bosses _ are around, Mister. Don’t deny it!”

Remy waved him off. “Go clock out, so we can go home and relax for a bit before the inevitable start of tomorrow.”

Emile nodded and walked to the back of the store, despite his impulse to run. He darted down aisles where no people were if it looked like someone would need him if he took the quickest route, and made it to the back without anyone asking for his assistance. He clocked out, untucked his shirt and took off his nametag so no one could mistake him for being on the clock, and  _ actually _ ran back to where Remy was in the store, a grin on his face. “Freedom!” he cheered.

Remy laughed and they walked out of the store together to the car. “Have a good morning today?” Remy asked. “Obviously the afternoon was rough on you, but was your morning good, at least?”

“Yeah, mostly,” Emile said. “Got to meet up with a friend who was on their way upstate and was passing through town, and that was nice.”

“Ooh, cool!” Remy exclaimed. “Not Faith, was it?”

“No, Faith is still halfway across the country, from what I understand,” Emile said, shaking his head. “I’m not sure if I’ve ever actually told you about him before. His name is Dice.”

“Dice, huh? That’s an interesting name,” Remy said.

Emile nodded as they got on the road. “Yeah, I’m not sure anyone knows what his parents were thinking,” Emile said.

“Ouch,” Remy laughed. “Was he picked on a lot as a kid?”

“I wouldn’t know, he went to a different elementary school than I did. And middle school, for that matter.”

“Ah, you met in high school, huh?” Remy said. “Yeah, I guess he wouldn’t immediately say whether or not he was picked on as a kid, and you wouldn’t ask, so I guess it remains a mystery to us all.”

Emile nodded with a laugh. He felt a little bad lying to Remy about who Dice was, but if he wanted to make the monthly meet-ups make sense without giving up the true reason, he had to say  _ something. _ “So how was your work today?”

“Boss at the local chain as bigoted as ever, and he was griping about us gays today,” Remy sighed. “All because there’s one guy who came in who acted more feminine than most guys around here do. Apparently gays are bad for business.”

“Well, we seem to be keeping these businesses afloat, so your boss has no idea what he’s talking about,” Emile said definitively.

“Yeah, I know. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t sting sometimes,” Remy sighed, leaning back in his seat.

Emile hummed his agreement. “Everything else okay?”

“Yeah, it was fine otherwise,” Remy said. “Got a brief feeling of missing Toby, but I’m almost used to it by now. And at any rate, I know what to do to keep myself calm over it during work.”

“What do you do when you’re not at work and those pop up? Because I know you’ve told me a couple times, but you looked like you were about to cry those couple times. I  _ knew _ something was up already.”

Remy turned pink. “Actually, I...uh...I usually seek you out. Because you provide a similar comfort to what Toby did, and if I don’t tell you what’s upsetting me, you provide me with a distraction either by cuddling, or talking about school or work or cartoons. Like, if I need the comfort I’ll tell you what’s up, but most of the time I usually just need something to keep me busy. And you easily take all my focus when you’re around.”

“Oh,” Emile said. He had never realized all those times that Remy came up to him and sat next to him or demanded cuddles might mean he needed comfort, and just didn’t want to be asked why. “I’m honored, Rem, but you know I have to say it: that’s gay.”

Remy laughed, shaking his head. “I know you do. I’d be worried if you didn’t, truth be told.”

Emile snickered. “You think that everything’s gonna be okay?” he asked. “Like, you come up to me and demand cuddles pretty frequently.”

“Oh. Well, if I demand cuddles usually I just want cuddles, and there’s not necessarily a sinister or sad reason behind it. And sometimes I just wander up to you because it’s nice to talk to you. I think it’s when I walk up to you and let you do most if not all the talking until you can pull me out of my head that you have to worry.”

“Good to know,” Emile said, making a mental note of that. He’d have to keep an eye on Remy’s mood and make sure that he was okay. At least until Toby was found, but probably after that as well. Emile wanted to keep Remy happy.


	65. Chapter 65

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for near-death experiences

####  **September 3rd, 1986**

“Remy!” Toby yelled, dashing across the street and grabbing Remy’s arm. “Don’t do that!”

“Don’t do what? Cross the street?” Remy asked.

“Not before looking to make sure there aren’t any cars coming!” Toby exclaimed. “You could get run over if you’re not careful!”

“Nobody would run over a kid!” Remy said, complete conviction in his tone.

“Maybe not on purpose, but if they don’t see you, they might not stop until it’s too late! Don’t run across the street without looking both ways first, okay?”

Remy rolled his eyes. “Fine. Can we keep walking home, now?”

Toby sighed. “Fine. But be warned, if you’re not careful, you could get seriously hurt.”

Remy huffed. “Whatever.”

####  **June 12th, 2002**

Remy chased Emile around the apartment until Emile was stuck in a corner and Remy tickled him relentlessly. Emile  _ shrieked _ with laughter, trying to swat Remy’s hands away. “This is what you get for getting that song stuck in my head for the fiftieth time this week!” he exclaimed, a victorious grin splitting his face. “I can’t keep singing ‘I Want It That Way’ under my breath at work, August will  _ kill _ me!”

“Okay, okay! I’m sorryyyy!” Emile squealed. “I can’t get it out of my head, either! Because you sing it then I sing it, and it’s one big feedback loop!”

Remy’s fingers retreated for half a moment, and Emile had Remy trapped in a bear hug, unable to move his arms whatsoever. “Emile! Lemme go!”

“Nope! Not until you promise to not tickle me over this anymore!” Emile declared.

“Never!” Remy exclaimed. “August nearly took my head yesterday for humming it under my breath, and I still have heart palpitations because of that! You deserve to be tickled for nearly killing me!”

Emile just held onto Remy tighter, and Remy squirmed and squirmed until he broke free of Emile’s grip, but Emile was running to the door before Remy could continue the tickling. “Hey, get back here!” Remy laughed, following Emile out the door.

But Emile was already heading down the stairs and out the building, and Remy sped after him, feet running as fast as his body would let him.

Emile glanced behind him and when he saw Remy, he ran faster, still giggling.

Remy was halfway through the parking lot when Emile was just barely at the sidewalk, glancing at the street and clearly assuming it was clear. But Remy could hear the sound of a car engine, getting closer, and his blood ran cold. “Emile!” he exclaimed. It was like everything happened in slow motion. He was pouring on the speed, feet propelling him faster than he thought possible through the parking lot. He could see a bright blue in his peripheral vision, growing bigger and bigger. He grabbed Emile by the collar of his shirt, yanking him backwards on the sidewalk...just as a pickup truck sped by.

Emile turned white as a sheet as Remy bent over, hands just above his knees, trying to catch his breath. “Oh,” Emile breathed.

“Did no one teach you to not run across the street, Emile?” Remy panted.

“I thought it was clear,” Emile breathed. “I didn’t see the truck.”

“Well, yeah, the guy was easily going fifty in a thirty five,” Remy wheezed. “I could hear him, but I doubt you could if you were laughing as hard as you were.”

“I almost died,” Emile said, still deathly pale. “I would be dead if you hadn’t grabbed me.”

“I’d really rather not think about that,” Remy sighed. He moved without feeling himself move, gripping Emile in a tight hug. “You ever do that again, and I’ll kill you myself.”

Emile lightly hugged Remy back, and were it not for Emile’s hyperventilating, Remy would wonder if he had realized what happened at all. Remy held Emile at arm’s length, looking him over. He knew that Emile hadn’t been clipped at all, Remy had yanked him back hard enough that Emile moved halfway across the sidewalk, but he still needed to see for himself that Emile was okay. “Let’s...let’s go back inside,” Remy said, at barely above a whisper.

All he got in return for that was a swallow and a nod. They made their way back inside, holding each others’ hands in a vice grip. Remy wasn’t sure if he would ever feel his fingers again after this, but at the moment he didn’t care all that much. Emile was alive and unhurt, and that was all that mattered.

They got back in their apartment, and went over to the couch, both of them collapsing onto it, Emile with a sigh and Remy with a shaky sob. Emile squeezed Remy’s hand, and Remy swallowed. “I thought I lost you,” he breathed, looking over at Emile. “I thought that you were gonna end up in the hospital, at the very least. Six feet under at worst. I thought...I thought...” He shook his head and choked back another sob.

Emile held Remy close as he cried, but he didn’t say anything. Remy could feel him shaking, though. Remy looked up at him. “Are you...that thing you talked about the other day? The nonverbal thing?”

“I-I-I-I do-do-don’t-don’t th-thi-thi-ink s-s-s-so...?” Emile said, each stuttered half-word punctuated with a gasp.

“That stutter’s pretty bad, though,” Remy said. “So you might be...kinda nonverbal? If that’s at all possible?”

“S-s-s-se-se-se-semi-mi-ver-bal,” Emile stammered out.

“Yeah, that,” Remy said. “Is it better if I don’t make you talk?”

Emile mutely nodded.

“Okay, I’ll try to stick to yes or no questions when I have to. Otherwise, I think just cuddling for a while will be okay.”

Emile nodded again and Remy buried himself in Emile’s side as his tears continued to fall. Without even realizing fully what he was doing, Remy started to talk. “Man, I had never really considered our own mortality before, you know? Like, I knew that one day you and I would...would no longer be here, but...I don’t know. It just...got shoved in my face today that one of us could die at any time. And I just...kinda assumed we’d be together until one or the other of us died. But I never considered the inevitable that comes after that. And...I mean...I had considered the thought of one of us calling this off. Us breaking up. Even after I realized that this is what I think of as soulmates. Especially after that. Because I wanted a plan in place in case you didn’t feel the same anymore. But I never thought about the far more likely option...we stay together until one of us dies. What happens then? Like, yeah, I could die first. That’s a possibility. But it’s one that I don’t have to plan for. And it’s a fifty-fifty chance, you know? I’d have to plan for what happens if you died first. And...I kinda ignored that fact for as long as I could, because I didn’t want to think about a world without you in it. Like, if we broke up at least you’d be alive still, and have the chance to be happy. If you died...Listen. I know that the world wouldn’t end. The apocalypse wouldn’t happen just because you died, it’s not like the city would burn to the ground. But...it would feel like  _ my _ world ended. And...I just...I don’t know how I would cope with that.”

Emile squeezed Remy tight and Remy took a breath. “I know I shouldn’t fixate on this. It’s a morbid thing to think about. But...but really, what happens when all of this comes to an end? What happens if... _ when... _ one of us kicks the bucket?”

“We-we-we w-w-wou-would-would ha-ha-have p-pl-plan-ans i-i-in pl-place,” Emile stammered.

“But we  _ don’t _ have those plans, Emile. That’s my point. And we have to face the fact that we’re not going to live forever. You know? We have to prepare one of these days,” Remy said.

“O-o-one o-of the-the-the-these da-days. N-n-not t-to-today, m-my lo-ove,” Emile pleaded in between gasps. “To-to-today le-let-let’s ju-just fo-cus on-on-on-on the...the fac-ct that we’re-re...alive.”

“You sound like a dying fish,” Remy said, only mildly hysterical. “Stop trying to talk. Clearly, you need to calm down some more before talking again. I don’t want you hurting yourself.”

Emile giggled, sounding hysterical himself, heaving gasps in between giggles. Remy wrapped his arms around Emile’s chest, hoping to calm him down, however little that calm was.

They stayed like that for another half an hour easily, Emile’s giggles slowly tapering off and Remy intermittently crying, holding onto Emile like a life raft. Eventually, Emile slowly extricated himself from Remy’s grasp. “Remy...Remy,” Emile said when Remy tried to continue hugging him. “Remy, I have to pee.”

Remy reluctantly put his hands back in his lap, and simply requested, “Hurry back.”

Emile nodded and went to the bathroom quickly. Remy scrubbed his face. He was happy that if this had to happen, it was on a day where neither of them had work. That would have been unfortunate, nearly dying and then being separated for hours on end, unable to talk about what happened. He would be a nervous wreck at work.

When Emile came back, he collapsed on the couch with a sigh. “Thank you,” he said.

Remy blinked. “For what?”

“For nearly choking me when you grabbed my shirt collar,” Emile laughed. “I never did thank you.”

“Oh. Don’t mention it,” Remy said softly.

“Remy...do you think we should get our affairs in order?” Emile asked. “Like, obviously we can’t do that in a single day when we’re just starting, but. For the future. In case anything unfortunate happens. We should have contingency plans.”

“Yeah,” Remy agreed. “And we should probably plan for what happens if one of us ends up in the hospital.”

“Update our emergency contacts. I think my parents are still my primary emergency contacts,” Emile mused.

“Oh, God, I think my mother is still my emergency contact. That needs to change ASAP,” Remy said. “I’d rather have you be in charge of my medical stuff when I can’t make the decision for myself. I don’t want my mother to get a call that I’m in the hospital and have her ban you from visiting and whisking me away, back there.”

Emile sniffed a tiny laugh, and Remy frowned. “What? What’s so funny about that?”

“Not funny, exactly, but happy, I guess,” Emile said. “You said ‘back there,’ not ‘back home.’ I just...you made that distinction.”

“Well, yeah. That house isn’t my home. My home isn’t even a what. It’s a who,” Remy said.

Emile was biting back a grin, and Remy rolled his eyes. “Yes, that’s you, you dork. Stop being so smiley about it.”

“Never,” Emile vowed, hugging Remy tight.

“Emile! Lemme go!” Remy laughed.

“Nope!” Emile exclaimed.

“Hey! Come on!” Remy exclaimed. “You’re gonna suffocate me!”

Emile giggled. “Remy, I would never do such a thing! You wound me!”

Remy poked Emile’s side and Emile yelped, releasing his hold on Remy just enough for Remy to roll out of the hold and onto the floor, laughing. He leapt to his feet and sprinted to the bedroom, grabbing his pillow so when Emile followed him, he was immediately met with a feathery end. Emile shoved Remy’s pillow out of his face with a laugh, grabbing his own pillow and whacking Remy with it.

The two chased each other around the apartment, hitting each other with pillows and laughing like nothing in the world would ever be as funny again. They kept running until Remy tripped over a chair leg and crashed to the floor. “Rem?! You okay?!” Emile asked, rushing over.

“Ow. Yeah, I’m fine,” Remy said, pushing himself into a sitting position. “That hurt, but it’s not the worst scrape I’ve ever gotten. I’ll be fine.”

“If you say so,” Emile said, worrying his lip.

“I do say so,” Remy said. “But maybe we should cut back on the pillow fights, at least for now. I think I used up all the energy I had left.”

“That’s fair,” Emile said, offering Remy a hand.

Remy took it and the two stood there a moment, uncertainty on both their faces. “...Do you want to help out at the shelter tonight?” Emile asked.

A beat. “...Yeah, okay. When should we head out?”

Emile checked the time and hummed. “I don’t know. Anywhere from now to half an hour and we should be fine.”

“May as well go now, then. Maybe we could talk to Bernie and see what he has to say about wills and stuff. I don’t know if he has any experience, but he might,” Remy pointed out.

“True,” Emile said.

They put their pillows back on the bed and headed out, this time double checking the street before they crossed it.


	66. Chapter 66

####  **November 14th, 2001**

“So, wait...what do I call you?” Emile asked them.

“You can still call me Jordan, man. It’s my name,” they said. “I just happen to be genderqueer, instead of a woman, like you thought.”

“Right...” Emile said, struggling to understand. “I’m sorry, I really don’t understand a lot of this, but I’ll do my best.”

“I know you will, Emile, that’s why I told you,” they said, patting his arm. “Lots of people don’t understand perfectly, and those who do are usually genderqueer themselves.”

Emile nodded. “Thanks for trusting me enough to tell me.”

“Of course!” Jordan exclaimed. “After seeing you with Remy, I knew I could trust you with this.”

“Wait, what? Remy? Why?” Emile asked.

“Isn’t he trans?” Jordan asked, frowning.

“Not that I know of?” Emile said.

“Oh,” Jordan said. “My mistake, then. Still, anyone who’s queer has a better chance of understanding than someone who isn’t. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Yeah,” Emile said, letting Jordan go. Emile’s mind was reeling. Why did Remy keep getting clocked as trans?

####  **June 20th, 2002**

Emile was living for this moment. He and Remy had just taken their first few steps into the pride parade, Emile wearing what he had dubbed his “Remy-approved skinny jeans” and an old T-shirt that looked exactly like one that Remy might wear. Remy was wearing that infernal leather jacket, a pair of blue jeans and that green gingham blouse he had gotten in February. And already, they could see dozens upon dozens of people just like them, walking around and having a good time as the pride parade was in full swing.

Remy held Emile’s hand, but the looseness of his grip meant that he wasn’t worried about losing Emile in the crowd, he just wanted to hold hands. And Emile loved it. “Where do you want to go first, Rem?” Emile asked.

Shrugging, Remy looked around. “Not sure. I’m a bit curious about that stall over there,” he pointed.

“Let’s check it out, then!” Emile said, walking Remy over there. “Hi!” he chirped at the individual running the both. “What are you representing at the pride parade today?”

“Oh, this is a stall for nonbinary support!” the individual replied.

“Non...binary?” Remy asked.

“It’s a label for people who don’t identify as a man or a woman,” the individual explained. “You may have heard the term ‘genderqueer’ before? Nonbinary is similar, but for those who don’t want to use the word ‘genderqueer.’”

“That’s an option?” Remy asked. “You really can be neither? I mean, Emile said something about this in passing before, but...”

The individual nodded. Emile looked Remy over. He looked...not perturbed, but definitely curious. “You think that describes you, Rem?”

“Hm? Oh, no. No, I’m cis, Emile, I’ve told you before.” Remy shook his head. “I’m definitely cis. I’m just curious. I’ve never heard of that as an option before.”

“Okay,” Emile said. Remy moved away a couple feet and Emile glanced at the individual at the stall. “Thanks for explaining that to my boyfriend and myself.”

“Hey, no worries,” the individual said. “Though your boyfriend? Don’t tell him, but anyone who shows that much interest in nonbinary identities? Is usually not cisgender.”

“Yeah, I know,” Emile sighed. “But he’s extremely closeted if he’s nonbinary. And I love him either way, bisexual, and all that, but...I don’t want to push him.”

“Understandable,” the individual said. “Whenever he’s ready, be there for him. We’ll all be in his corner when he decides.”

Emile nodded and thanked them, heading over to where Remy was talking with someone who seemed to be from that comic company that Remy had been obsessing over for the past year. Remy glanced at him and smiled. “Hey. You have a good conversation with them?”

“Yeah,” Emile said. “They clarified some things a little further for me. I don’t know if you’d be interested...?”

“Not at the moment, no offense to them,” Remy said. “I just have a hard time wrapping my head around that sort of thing.”

“Yeah, I get it,” Emile said. “There’s only so much new information you can take in at a time.”

“Exactly,” Remy said, looking back at the comics.

“So, anything new about the comics that you can confuse me with?” Emile asked.

Remy laughed. “Oh, come on, you’re not that interested in my stuff,” he said.

“It’s important to you, so it’s important to me,” Emile said, putting a hand on Remy’s shoulder. “Now, come on. Why don’t you at least try to explain instead of just saying you’ll immediately lose me?”

“You won’t understand,” Remy warned. “You haven’t read the comics, you won’t get it.”

“But I’m willing to try and understand,” Emile said.

Remy sighed. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“Not really. If you don’t explain now, I’ll ask you to explain when we’re home and you can point out parts in the comics.”

“Why don’t we do that from the start? You read and I explain when you get confused?” Remy suggested. “It would be easier with visuals, wouldn’t it?”

“I mean, maybe...” Emile said.

“Then it’s settled. I’ll explain when we get home,” Remy said, smiling softly. “And for what it’s worth...I appreciate your efforts to understand.”

Emile smiled back and when Remy took an obligatory bookmark from the booth, they kept walking inward.

After a time, they could hear music being played from one of the booths, rather loudly, and they both gravitated towards it. When they got to the booth, there was a little bit of open space, enough for two people to dance in. Emile grinned and turned to look at Remy, who was glancing at Emile. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Emile asked.

Remy just grinned and offered his hand to Emile. “Care to dance?”

Emile took the hand with a grin and yelped as Remy immediately rushed forward into the open space, just as “Mambo No. 5” started playing on the speaker. They both laughed as Remy led Emile around the small open space, their dancing not very well-coordinated with each other but having fun all the same.

By the time they reached the chorus, there was a small crowd watching them as they slowly got more in tune with each other’s moves. Remy was laughing, and Emile giggled along with him. This was great fun, and he didn’t even care that people were watching, for once. It was just him and Remy in the world, dancing along to a silly song.

As they reached the end of the song, Emile dipped Remy and swooped in for a kiss, causing the crowd around them to cheer. Remy brought a hand to Emile’s cheek near the end of the kiss, and when Emile righted them both, flushed and grinning, Remy huffed. “I have half a mind to tell you off for that kiss.”

“Aw, no one’s gonna come after us for it, Rem,” Emile said with a shrug.

Remy was still huffing a little as they moved on and another couple replaced them in front of the music. “Still. I need revenge.”

“How are you gonna—” Emile yelped as Remy slapped his butt. “Rude! You won’t let me touch your butt and yet you can touch mine?”

“Mine was in revenge, not just because,” Remy said, a smug grin on his face.

“Rude!” Emile repeated.

Remy shrugged. “Don’t deny that you like it, I know you do,” he said.

“Not the point!” Emile exclaimed.

“Look, Emile, I let you tongue me in public. A lot. And that gets me...excitable. It’s only fair that I have something to even the playing field,” Remy said.

Emile blinked. “You...get excited when I tongue you?”

Remy rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Have for at least a couple months, but probably longer. It’s not a  _ huge _ deal, but it still seems unfair that you can do that but I don’t have any way to return the favor.”

Considering this, Emile adjusted his previous statement. “Okay, not rude. Just cheeky.”

“In a good way?” Remy asked.

“Is there such a thing as a good kind of brash and forward?” Emile asked.

“Yeah,” Remy said. “It’s like when someone flirts with you and asks you out on a date the first day of meeting you.”

“I wouldn’t really call that ‘brash,’” Emile sighed. “But it’s whatever, I guess. You have your revenge, now.”

Remy grinned and said, “I hope you realize I’ll do this  _ any _ time you decide to tongue me in public.”

“Yeah, I kinda had that part figured out,” Emile said, rolling his eyes. He was fighting back a smile as he added, “It’s part of your charm.”

“Stubbornness is part of my charm?” Remy asked.

“Well, it’s either part of your charm or it’s a drawback, and personally, I don’t really see any drawbacks about you,” Emile said with a shrug.

“Oh, so the ‘part of my charm’ is you being an antiquities dealer trying to sell that old haunted baby doll that no one in their right mind would ever buy off you, got it,” Remy teased.

“Not exactly,” Emile said. “Because I don’t  _ want _ anyone to buy you off me.”

“I—oh,” Remy said simply. “Okay.”

Emile nudged Remy. “Come on, you didn’t seriously expect me to say anything else?”

“I mean...no, but it’s one thing to expect it, another to actually...hear it,” Remy said. “I...I don’t know what I’m trying to say.”

Emile shrugged. “Affirmation can be very powerful,” he offered. “Just hearing someone say that your feelings are acceptable, even if you knew that before, can leave quite an impact.”

Remy blew out a breath. “I did not expect us to get this sappy at pride. I just expected us to have a good time running around like lunatics, in all honesty.”

“Hey, we can still do that, if you want,” Emile offered.

“Maybe after grabbing something to eat? I’m getting kinda hungry.”

“Sure,” Emile agreed.

They went to the food trucks, Emile with his ID at the ready, not that he really expected to be buying any alcohol. Looking around a little bit, they settled for hot dogs and a soda each, and settled down at one of the picnic tables strewn around. “So,” Remy said.

“So?” Emile asked.

“What do you think of my outfit choice today? Be honest,” Remy said. “The skinny jeans and blouse, I know you always have thoughts when I wear stuff like this. But you almost never share them.”

“Well,” Emile paused. “I just don’t always know if my thoughts are welcome.”

“Unless you’re being insulting, your thoughts are always welcome,” Remy said.

Emile chewed on his hotdog, trying to buy some time. When he swallowed, he said, “Admittedly, I wonder if you’re actually trans when you wear this sort of stuff. Or at least gender non-conforming.” Remy got that familiar set in his jaw and Emile said, “That response! Right there! Is why I don’t bring this up.”

Remy huffed. “I’m cis, Emile. I don’t know why that’s so hard for you to understand!”

“Remy, listen. It’s not that I don’t believe you,” Emile said. “You say you’re cis, then you’re cis. Okay. I’m not trying to question your decision on your own identity. But...you certainly behave differently when you wear more feminine clothing. Not, like, noticeably to most. But you prefer being called pretty, you don’t mind me calling you ‘girl,’ and you sometimes look at women wearing feminine clothing with a sense of...longing, I guess would be the word. And you don’t do any of these things when you  _ don’t _ wear more feminine clothing.”

Remy looked surprised. “I do that?”

Emile nodded.

“Huh,” Remy said. “But only when I wear my blouses?”

“That I’ve noticed,” Emile said.

“Well, what am I supposed to do with that? I can’t just be ninety percent cisgender, can I? And the other ten percent would be, what? A woman? What about the days where I don’t like being pretty  _ or _ handsome? It doesn’t make sense, Emile,” Remy sighed. “I act like I’m cis most of the time, so I’m cis. That’s the best answer I’ve got.”

“Okay,” Emile said, feeling somewhat sad. Remy was just...settling for the best answer he had, instead of looking for something that might fit him better. He didn’t want Remy struggling like that for the rest of his life, but...he couldn’t force Remy to look for a label that fit better. So if Remy wanted to be cis, Emile would have to accept that. And if one day, that no longer fit, well, then Emile would be there to help Remy through the process of finding a new label that fit better. Because Emile would never  _ not _ want to help Remy. “Anywhere specific you want to go after we finish lunch?”

“Not particularly,” Remy said with a shrug. “Not many places in particular that caught my interest last year. I just like the sense of community I get from coming here, more than anything else. That, and watching you loosen up some.”

Emile laughed. “I thought you said that when I loosened up I reminded you of that overly-cheery nerd you first met in college?”

“Oh, no, you do,” Remy said. “Don’t get me wrong. But it’s fun to see every once in a while.”

Emile grinned. “I love you, too.”


	67. Chapter 67

####  **May 14th, 1998**

“Hey, Toby?” Remy asked.

“Yeah?” Toby asked, glancing up from his homework. “What’s up?”

“You’ll still like me after you go off to college, right?” Remy asked. “Like, Vanessa left and she’s gotten way more distant. Not that we were close in the first place, but I don’t want that to happen to us. You’re my best friend.”

“Rem, I’ll never stop loving you, not for anything,” Toby said. “College is going to take up a lot of my time, but I can write when possible, and whenever breaks come around we’ll have plenty of time to hang out just the two of us. I won’t ever stop being your brother, understand?”

“Yeah,” Remy said. “Thanks, Tobes.”

####  **July 10th, 2002**

Remy was walking down the street, humming under his breath as he wandered around. Work had let him off early, and rather than call Emile, he decided he would walk around and explore the city a bit. Currently, he was walking around the southwestern part of the city, which was maybe the farthest away from the college, so he hadn’t had much reason to be down here before.

As he was walking down the street, a familiar mop of curly hair caught Remy’s eye from the window of a small café. Remy slowed down and paused. Emile hadn’t said anything about what he was doing today, and Remy had no idea he might be in this part of the city. He was about to go in and say hi when he saw Emile’s expression darken and he looked...not angry, but certainly not pleased. Whoever he was sitting with placed their hands face up on the table at either side, clearly trying to placate him. Emile rolled his eyes and grumbled something, hands making wide gestures.

Remy felt frozen in place as he watched this person put their hand on Emile’s shoulder. Emile sighed and had a certain longing on his face, a longing that Remy recognized from when Emile talked about his crush on Remy. It was lovestruck crossed with melancholy. But why would he have that look talking to a random stranger?

...What if they weren’t a random stranger? Someone that Emile knew that Remy didn’t? That would make sense, because Emile had friends from before college and they sometimes came to visit. But that still didn’t explain the longing on his face.

Remy decided to investigate. He walked to the door and walked in, calling, “Emile! Hey!”

Emile jumped, startled, and looked over at Remy with wide eyes. He almost looked...guilty? “Hey, Rem!” Emile exclaimed. “Grab a seat!”

Remy walked over and sat at one of the free chairs at the table. “Who’s this?” he asked, nodding to the stranger.

“This is Dice. My friend from high school, remember?” Emile asked, glancing between Dice and Remy.

“Oh! What brings you here?” Remy asked, turning to Dice.

“Just visiting Emile here, giving him some updates as to what I’ve been doing, him doing the same, you know, catch-up stuff,” Dice said.

Remy nodded, keeping a neutral smile on his face, though something in his gut told him that Dice was lying. Remy turned back to Emile, who was looking nervous under Remy’s trained gaze. “So, Dice, you keep in touch with Faith, too?”

Dice froze for just a second before he nodded. “Well, yeah, of course I do. I travel all the time, but I make it a point to visit all my friends across the eastern coast. Faith included.”

But Faith wasn’t studying by the coast, Emile had told Remy as much. “What’s really going on here, guys?” Remy asked. “Because Dice, I know you’re lying, and Emile, you look guilty as hell.”

A pregnant silence hung over them. “Your friend’s sharp, Mister Thomas,” Dice said.

Emile scratched the back of his neck. “All right, Rem, you got me. Dice is...uh...” Emile looked at Dice. “Well, I’m a client of his.”

“A...client?” Remy asked, brows furrowing. “You’re not...like...sleeping with him?”

Emile choked on the sip of tea he was trying to hide behind, and Dice snorted. Remy turned to Dice, getting no response. “Look, I know you’re not his high school friend, so who are you?!”

“Not a prostitute, I’ll tell you that much right now,” Dice said with an irritated scowl.

“Well, how am I supposed to know who you are?!” Remy asked. “Emile lied about how he knows you!”

Emile winced. “Remy—”

“—No, Emile, you lied about who he was! I don’t want to hear another word from you if it’s not the truth!” Remy said, crossing his arms.

“I’m a private investigator,” Dice sighed. “Your friend here hired me to find someone; missing persons are my specialty.”

Remy frowned. “First of all, he’s not just my friend. He’s my  _ boyfriend,” _ he corrected. “However pissed I may be at him, I’m sticking with him. Second of all, who are you looking for? From what I understand, Emile kept in touch with  _ all _ of his high school friends the best he could. And those who he still emails have contact with his other friends, so they’re all still connected. It’s not some long lost flame, is it? Because Emile had that look in his eyes he gets when he’s struck with the love bug, and I get I’m not the best person in the world, but I would have thought that I’d be enough for Emile?”

“Remy!” Emile interjected. “I’m not trying to find anyone I’ve had a previous relationship with, and I’m certainly not trying to cheat on you whatsoever!”

“Then what’s with this clandestine meeting?!” Remy asked, throwing his hands in the air. “Because it certainly  _ looks _ like something suspicious is going on!”

“You’re Remy Picani?” Dice asked, taking a sip of his coffee.

“...Yes?” Remy asked. He didn’t know why all his instincts were suddenly screaming at him to be on guard, but they were. “Why?”

“Any relations to a particular...Tobias Picani?” Dice asked, a grin slowly growing on his face.

Remy’s heart stopped, before leaping into overdrive. “Toby?” he asked softly. He turned to Emile in shock. “You’re trying to find Toby?”

“...Yeah,” Emile said. “I didn’t want to tell you yet because Dice and I haven’t gotten any leads, but—”

Emile stopped short as Remy wrapped his arms around Emile in a hug. Tears were coming to his eyes. “Well, now I feel like an ass,” he whispered, starting to laugh.

“You did get pretty worked up,” Emile laughed.

Remy pulled back and lightly slugged Emile. “So, no leads?” he asked.

“No,” Dice said. “I haven’t been able to find even a trace of an Internet trail. The best I have is a couple possible schools he went to. Honestly, I haven’t ever seen a case like this where there isn’t some sort of stalker involved.”

_ Oh. _ The pieces clicked into place and Remy groaned. “Jamie,” he breathed. “Of course. She fits that whole ‘stalker’ stereotype to a T. And Toby’s been having trouble with her since his freshman year of college.”

“This Jamie have a last name?” Dice asked.

“Uh...” Remy wracked his brain. “King. Jamie King. And Toby went to...some art school I don’t know the name of, but was pretty infamous in the area, you can probably find it. Toby got Jamie kicked out of the college when she threatened to stab him if they didn’t get back together, and continued to leave threats outside his door...daily, really. She wasn’t exactly the most sane person you would ever meet. Toby wanted nothing to do with her, and I don’t think she knows where he is...”

“But she’s a piece of the puzzle we didn’t have before, and it might help us find your brother,” Dice said. “I’ve been trying to get your boyfriend here to prod about Toby and pass on any information he gets to me, but according to him, you would have seen through any lie he told in seconds. And given this conversation, I’m inclined to believe him.”

Remy scoffed. “Yeah, Emile’s a terrible liar,” he said, shaking his head. “And Emile, you could have just  _ told _ me you were looking for Toby in the first place, I would have been able to help!”

“I just didn’t want to get your hopes up,” Emile said. “Dice has been working on this for two months now and we’ve come up with nothing, until you walked in the door.”

Remy sighed. “Look, Emile, I respect that, but you’re still dumb as rocks,” he said. “And possibly in need of a reevaluation of your boyfriend, here? Because I’ve been mellowing out a lot more, and finding my footing  _ way _ better over the past couple of months. I’ve had my moments, sure, but I’m not the surly, cynical crybaby you met in college. I’m still kinda cynical, sure, but I cry less, and I don’t think any of our friends would describe me as ‘surly’ at all. I’ve changed over the years; I’m not going to be destroyed if we can’t find Toby. It’ll hurt if we don’t, sure, but I think we could actually do it, with time. And I won’t ask to come to the meetings, because I know that would be hard on me, but if you guys have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask, you know? I’d answer any questions you have if it means finding Toby. Don’t hesitate to ask.”

Dice turned to Emile. “You really need to reevaluate your boyfriend, Mister Thomas. He seems vastly different than how you described him to me. Granted, I only asked how he behaved when you first met, and that’s on me, but if you think he’s at all fragile...”

“I know he’s not fragile,” Emile sighed. “Still doesn’t mean I won’t try and protect him if I think he’s gonna get hurt.”

Remy shook his head. “Emile...I’m glad you’re doing this. And I’m glad you were trying to look out for me. But do you think you could  _ consult _ me next time you come up with a crazy plan like this one? Nothing against what you’ve done, but I’d be able to help you.”

“Okay, I’ll run future plans by you, even if I don’t tell you they’re future plans. I probably should have done that in the first place here, and it’s my bad for not doing that. But considering all this, is there anything else you can tell us about Toby that could help us find him?” Emile asked.

“He enjoys his creature comforts a little too much for his own good,” Remy said. “He’d rather stay in the same place he’s at if at all possible rather than packing up and moving, even if something bad happens, like a stalker figuring out where he lives. The only way he’d move is if he knows for  _ sure _ he won’t be safe staying where he is, and even then, he won’t leave town. So you can probably find him around the art school he went to. He wouldn’t go cross-country for a job, and I think most of his work could be done on computers now anyways. Graphic design, and all that.”

“Would he be the type to file a restraining order?” Dice asked.

“I don’t know,” Remy said, considering. “He wants to give people the benefit of the doubt, but when it came to Jamie, he was really freaked when she started threatening him. So he might have ordered one. Not that she would listen to it, but...”

“If he filed a restraining order, it’s possible that I could find his city. From there, finding the man himself would be a piece of cake!” Dice declared. “I’ll put out my feelers, and with any luck I’ll have an update for you next month!”

Emile looked about as excited as Remy felt. “Awesome!” he exclaimed. “You’ve got this month’s payment, too, so is this meeting done?”

“Yeah, I need to get moving. I’ll let you know where and when next month, Mister Thomas!” Dice said as he stood and left the shop.

Remy watched him go, before turning to Emile. “I’m admittedly a little surprised,” he said. “I wouldn’t have thought that  _ this _ would be how you’d use your inheritance.”

“Oh, no, I’m investing most of it, still,” Emile said. “I’m just using whatever I have after that to pay Dice. He gets good results.”

“I hope so,” Remy said. “I thought I’d never get to see Toby again, and even if this might not work, it’s a possibility that I could see him again, and my heart is racing and my stomach’s in knots. I hope he’s the same as he was before. I’d hate to find him only to realize I’m staring at a stranger.”

“I think you’ll be fine, Rem,” Emile soothed. “Even if Toby changed, I know he wouldn’t stop caring about you.”


	68. Chapter 68

####  **June 23rd, 2000**

Emile looked at the surprise on Faith’s face with glee. “Do you like it?” he asked her.

“Emile...you set up  _ this entire thing for me?” _ Faith asked, looking over at him.

“Yeah, of course!” Emile said. “You said that you couldn’t have a party because you broke your wrist and you wouldn’t be able to set one up in time when you were holed up in the hospital, so consider this a double party! A welcome home and a birthday party!”

Faith shook her head, grinning and crushing Emile in a hug. “Oh, Emile, I love you so much,” she laughed. “I’m going to miss you after this summer.”

Emile grinned and hugged her just as tight. “I’m going to miss you too. Never stop writing.”

“Never,” Faith promised.

####  **July 28th, 2002**

Emile turned as he heard snickering behind him, but he wasn’t quick enough to avoid the big wave of water that was aggressively shoved into his face before he was promptly tackled by a very excited Remy. Emile laughed, even as he sputtered and spat out salt water. “Was that  _ really _ necessary, Rem?” Emile asked.

“No,” Remy said with a shameless grin. “But it was  _ really _ funny.”

Emile laughed and shook his head, just as a wave rose up behind them, easily as tall as Emile was, and both of them were rather unceremoniously shoved onto the shoreline. Emile laughed hard enough that the wave retreating was starting to pull him back into the water before Remy grabbed his hands and kept him lying on the sand. “We should have come to the beach ages ago,” Emile laughed.

“Agreed,” Remy said with a grin, sitting down next to Emile. “Especially because I get to see you in boardshorts.”

“You’ve seen me in less,” Emile said, frowning.

“Yeah, but there’s something about the beach that makes everything and everyone look good,” Remy said. “Especially this one guy in particular...”

“I agree, the beach  _ does _ make you look good,” Emile said.

Remy squeaked and whacked Emile. “I was talking about  _ you, _ doofus!”

Emile laughed and offered Remy a wink. “Oh, come on, you  _ know _ you look good in swim trunks, don’t deny it!”

Remy was blushing furiously and crossed his arms. “This conversation was not supposed to be about me, mister!”

“Well, it is now,” Emile said with a huge grin. “And you look positively stunning when you’re all happy and giggly at the beach.”

“No. Not allowed. Illegal,” Remy said, shaking his head. “You cannot compliment me like that.”

“I can, and I will,” Emile threatened. “If you don’t acknowledge your beauty yourself, someone else has to do it for you.”

Remy huffed and stood with a stretch, and Emile got to his feet as well. “I’m not  _ that _ pretty, Emile,” he huffed. “Besides, I’d rather look handsome today.”

“Descriptors aside, you’re attractive,” Emile said simply. “I will fight you on this.”

“Then fight me, loverboy!” Remy said, shoving Emile before running into the water.

Emile stood there in shock a moment, just registering what Remy had said, before he laughed and ran after Remy, shoving water into his face with a laugh. Remy sputtered and shoved water back at Emile, but Emile blocked most of the spray. He grinned, jumping through the water and clinging to Remy like an octopus. “Emile!” Remy exclaimed with a laugh. “Let me go!”

“Nope!” Emile exclaimed, laughing.

“Come on, Emile, let go!” Remy laughed, pushing and tugging at Emile’s various limbs, but Emile would not be moved.

They continued like this for a while, Emile giggling as Remy tried to break free of Emile’s grip, before Remy got a light in his eyes and he walked out of the deeper water, causing Emile’s legs to drop. “Hey! No fair!” Emile exclaimed, still laughing.

Remy walked out of the waves to the shore, and undid Emile’s grip on him. Emile groaned. “You just sucked all the fun out of that!” he exclaimed.

“Well, I need to reapply sunscreen, and so do you,” Remy said, walking back to their towels.

Emile sighed but followed Remy and sat down on his towel, fishing in their bag for the sunscreen. He passed it to Remy, who immediately started to apply it. “I am  _ not _ getting sunburned on our day trip to the beach,” Remy said. “I don’t mind a tan, but I refuse to get sunburnt.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Emile said. “Sunburn sucks, especially if you have it where you normally wear clothing.”

Remy hummed his agreement, before asking, “Can you get my back?”

“Sure,” Emile said.

Remy knelt down and Emile rubbed a coat of sunscreen onto Remy’s back, about as thin as the layer Remy put everywhere else. Emile spoke idly as he rubbed in the sunscreen. “We should do this again sometime.”

“Agreed,” Remy said. “It’s nice.”

“Where do you think we should grab lunch?” Emile asked.

Remy hummed as Emile finished applying sunscreen. “I’m always a sucker for pizza by the beach,” he said.

“Sounds like a plan,” Emile said.

“Put sunscreen on yourself, too,” Remy said, turning to look at Emile with a stern face.

Emile rolled his eyes. “Come on, Rem, I’m not going to burn!”

“You’re right, you’re not. Because you’re reapplying your sunscreen. I’ll do it myself if I have to,” Remy warned.

Sighing, Emile put on a thin cover of sunscreen himself. “You know, I’m pale, but I don’t burn easily.”

“Whatever you say,” Remy said. “You’re still reapplying it.”

“Because you threatened to treat me like a toddler and smear it on yourself,” Emile scoffed, passing the bottle back to Remy. “My back?”

Remy obliged and Emile looked around, noticing a family setting up nearby, with a little girl staring at them. Emile smiled and waved, and she waved back. She turned to the woman putting up an umbrella, asking something, and the woman glanced over to them before saying something Emile didn’t catch. The girl ran up to Emile and Remy and asked, “Are you two best friends?”

Emile and Remy looked at each other and laughed. “Something like that, yeah,” Emile said. “Why do you ask?”

“I don’t usually see two men putting on sunscreen for each other,” the girl said with a shrug. “And I figured you must trust each other a lot.”

“You’re right that we trust each other a lot,” Remy spoke up. “We’ve known each other for almost two years now.”

“Has it really only been two years?” Emile asked. “It feels like it’s been forever.”

Remy laughed and kissed Emile’s temple. “It’s really only been two years,” he said.

The girl looked shocked. “You just kissed him!” she exclaimed.

“Yeah,” Remy said. “I can do that. We’re dating.”

The girl’s mother walked over and grabbed her by the hand, glaring at Emile and Remy. “Don’t go putting ideas in my daughter’s head!” she hissed.

Emile and Remy glanced at each other when the mother was gone, and they started to giggle. “Oh, boy, is she in for a surprise,” Emile said. “The next town over is a college town. The gays are everywhere, and they’re open about it.”

Remy snickered. “Not only the ones who have summer semesters, but the ones who come back from their studies and work as lifeguards or have jobs on the boardwalk, too.”

They continued to laugh for a minute before Remy sighed and Emile yawned. “Man, we’ve only been here a few hours but I’m exhausted,” he said.

“Well, maybe lunch would help with that?” Remy offered. “I think it’s about noon.”

Emile grabbed his glasses and watch from the bag and checked the time. “It’s closer to one-thirty, actually.”

“Oh, we’re definitely getting lunch, then,” Remy said, standing up and shaking the sand out of his towel. “Come on, babe, we’ve gotta eat before we pass out.”

Emile stood and folded up his towel and grabbed their bag, and together they went back to the parking lot to put away their beach stuff. They both pulled on shirts and headed to the pizza parlor they had eyed on the way over here.

When they walked in they were directed to seats and Emile looked around. It was a nice place, over all. But here was the perfect chance to get some more ideas for the project. “Hey, Rem.”

Remy looked up from his menu and groaned. “Come on, Emile. This, again? Why are you so insistent about following through with this game?”

Emile shrugged. “I just want your opinion on a couple things,” he said innocently. “What do you think of the layout of the restaurant? Compared to the shop that you have visualized in your head?”

“Well, I probably wouldn’t have booths,” Remy said, looking around. “They’re usually difficult to move for cleaning, and so much dust and dirt and stuff gets stuck under them or really close to them because it’s hard to clean the nooks and crannies.”

“So, only tables with chairs?” Emile asked. “Would that be an accessibility issue?”

“I’d have different heights,” Remy said definitively. “Regular height tables around the edges, with some tables higher up for people who are able to stand and climb up onto seats. And this is gonna sound weird to you...”

Emile tilted his head to the side, silently asking Remy to continue.

“...But I would have rectangular tables at the edges and circular ones in the middle, if at all possible. Less space to take up, and more potential space for a line, which I doubt would go out the door, but it’s whatever, you know?”

“It’s forethought. I like it,” Emile said, nodding and making mental adjustments in his head.

Remy ran a hand down his face and sighed. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Sorry for insisting we do this, like, every time we go out, but...you need a solid layout before you start a shop.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Remy said with a weak smile. “I’m just very tired, and I don’t want to talk or think shop right now, you know?”

“Yeah, I get it,” Emile said with a nod. “I’ll let it drop.”

A waitress came over and took their order, returning with their drinks and promising that their pizza would be out shortly. Remy was fiddling with the paper wrapper from his straw and he hummed. “Okay. I know I said I didn’t want to talk shop, but can I just...like, vent over something really quick?”

“Sure,” Emile said, faintly surprised. Remy never brought up this sort of stuff unless it was really bugging him, so it had to be important.

“I don’t get why so many people in so many coffee shops go out of their way to buy the expensive coffee grounds and advertise where from the world it came from. Like, ethically sourced? Yeah, of course, promote that. But a lot of the time they spring for expensive grounds and they just...don’t do anything different with them. And, sure, some grounds will taste better than others. But if you don’t do anything  _ original _ with it to adjust the flavor, what’s the point? Most people won’t tell the difference between the different kinds of bitter, and you have to raise prices to boot because of the cost of the grounds going into the coffee.” Remy shook his head and took a long sip of his soda. “It...it doesn’t make sense to me.”

Emile nodded along. “That makes sense. So your shop, you’d use regular coffee grounds, whatever that means?”

“I’d use the basic stuff, probably, yeah. At least at first, because that’s what I’d be able to afford. And I’d want it to be ethically sourced, ideally. Which, I know is a bit more pricey, but not out of the price range entirely. But basic coffee grounds with other ingredients still make a mean mocha if you know what you’re doing,” Remy said.

“I don’t know the first thing about making coffee, so I’ll leave you to that part of the business,” Emile said with a laugh.

Remy offered a sly grin. “Yeah. I wouldn’t ask your opinion on that without doing extensive research first so I can simplify things for you. And because you don’t know the terminology.”

Emile laughed unapologetically. “Thank you for being aware of that,” he said with a grin. “Means a lot that you would at least try and get me to understand.”

“Well, of course. It’s nice to have someone to run your plans by,” Remy said simply. “And since Theo graduated and has started doing his own thing, my pool of options has gone down by one. And when you don’t have a lot of options to begin with, that’s a big hit.”

“Maybe so,” Emile allowed. “But I’m willing to bet that your network is bigger than you think it is.”

Remy shrugged. “Maybe,” he allowed. “Maybe.”


	69. Chapter 69

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 69? Nice. (I'm sorry, I just had to! XD)

####  **November 30th, 1995**

Remy sat in the back of class, fiddling with his pencil and wishing he were anywhere else. He was stuck writing an essay about some stupid book or another that he had skimmed just enough of to know the gist and talk about it in English. He had griped to Toby the night before about the upcoming essay and Toby had just shrugged. “You gotta get through it, Rem, even though it sucks,” he said. “Tell you what. If you finish the essay, no matter what grade you get on it, I’ll give you twenty minutes of time just the two of us to do whatever you want.”

With a sigh, Remy sat forward and wrote the essay based on the outline he had barely worked on. Much as he hated this, he’d do anything for some time with Toby. He craved positive attention more than anything else in the world. Even if he didn’t know what to do with it, he liked it.

####  **August 5th, 2002**

Remy growled into the paper he was staring at, willing words to form on the page without him writing them. One of the things he hated most about school was the papers, and now, here he was, trying to write something purely because he wanted to, and he was experiencing the same block that he always had: finding the beginning.

He felt a presence behind him just before the words were spoken into his ear. “Something bugging you, Rem?”

Remy yipped and scowled at Emile when he started snickering. “Not funny,” Remy said. “I’m trying to write something serious here, but I can’t do that with you looking over my shoulder!”

“What are you trying to write?” Emile asked.

Remy turned pink and looked away. It was embarrassing to admit that he was trying to write a love letter. “It’s...a letter,” Remy said slowly.

Emile frowned, and Remy knew it was only a matter of time...Emile gasped. Yep, Remy was done for. “Rem, are you trying to write something for  _ me?” _ Emile asked, grinning.

“Shut up,” Remy growled. “I wanted to show I appreciated you, but I can’t even get a single word out onto the page.”

“Aw, Rem, I already know you love me,” Emile said, sitting down next to Remy at the table. “It’s okay. You don’t have to do anything to prove yourself to me.”

“But what if I  _ want _ to?” Remy asked, turning to Emile. “I want to show my love in a way that you clearly understand and can remember fondly. And you seem to like words a lot, so I thought a letter might work, but I can’t write it!”

“Hey, Rem, I appreciate words, but they’re not necessary,” Emile said. “If you struggle to say why you love me, that’s okay. I know that you love me, and that’s enough.”

“It doesn’t  _ feel _ like enough,” Remy said, resting his head on the table. “I mean, how do I know that you know? How can I take your word for it? I don’t have reason to believe you’re lying, but...I still worry.”

“That’s okay,” Emile said, putting one of his hands on one of Remy’s. “It’s okay to worry. It means you care. But if you only ever believe one thing I say, I want it to be that I love you.”

Remy moved to kiss Emile’s hand and mumbled “I know,” into Emile’s knuckles after a quick peck. “I know that, logically. But...but my emotions are telling me you’re going to get tired of me and leave me one day. And I really,  _ really _ don’t want that.”

“Emotions are fickle things,” Emile said simply, shrugging. “What did you want to say in the letter, besides that you love me, obviously?”

Remy looked at Emile with a frown. “You want me to...”

“Well, you seem to verbalize better than you write,” Emile said with a shrug. “What did you want to say?”

Remy shifted. “It’s embarrassing, and sappy...”

“I love sappy, Rem,” Emile said with a small grin. “Come on, I wanna hear what you have to say, if you’re comfortable sharing.”

Remy turned red, but said, “I wanted to talk about how your smile makes my day. Like, I get you to laugh at a dumb pun or a silly joke and it makes everything seem a little less pointless and bleak. And you’re so, so impossibly kind. It blows me away, to this day, knowing how kind you are. If I could be a tenth as good as you are I’d be perfectly content knowing I’m making a difference. And when you laugh, oh, I wish you could see it, Emile. Your eyes go squinty and your shoulders shake and there’s just so much pure  _ joy _ in the action. Your laughter is positively contagious, and you light up entire rooms with it. I...I know it sounds silly, but you mean so much to me, Emile. If you left, I know I could move forward, but I’m not sure I would truly move  _ on _ for a long time. I...I love you. And it’s scary, and I don’t know what to do with myself half the time, but if you’re here with me, it’ll all be okay. Because we look out for each other. And we’d never, ever betray each other’s trust.”

Emile looked so touched and blown away by Remy’s words, and Remy chuckled weakly. “I guess it’s pretty gay, huh?”

The resulting laugh he got in response to that had Remy giggling right back. And then Emile moved forward and softly kissed Remy, and Remy felt every ounce of love he felt for Emile reciprocated. Remy laughed into the kiss, and he could feel Emile’s grin, and soon enough, the two of them were out of their chairs, trying to get closer to each other. Emile had an arm wrapped around Remy’s waist and his hand rested at the small of Remy’s back. Remy had his arms draped over Emile’s shoulders, and never once did they break contact. It took Remy’s breath away, and not in the sense of being unable to breathe just because of the kiss. No, Emile just loved him so much that Remy couldn’t understand it.

When they finally broke the kiss, Remy held onto Emile tightly, still feeling an overwhelming amount of emotions. Emile started rubbing circles on Remy’s back and Remy laughed even as tears came to his eyes. “I’m so weepy recently,” Remy almost-whined. “I don’t like it.”

“I don’t mind,” Emile said with a shrug. “It means you feel safe enough to display emotion. I’m honored...I mean, I’m  _ proud _ that you would trust me that much.”

Remy hummed, holding Emile a little tighter. “I definitely feel safe around you, Emile,” he mumbled.

Emile laughed and slowly removed Remy’s arms from his shoulders. “I’m glad, Rem, but don’t fall asleep on me, okay? We have to go to the shelter in a little bit, remember?”

“Oh, yeah,” Remy said. “I almost forgot.”

“I figured. I’m almost like a walking, talking planner, though, so it’s okay,” Emile laughed. “I make up for your forgetfulness in spades.”

“Ha. Ha ha,” Remy said, sarcasm dripping from his tongue. “You’re absolutely hilarious, Emile.”

Emile snickered and Remy rolled his eyes. “What?”

“You’re just...so...you,” Emile said. “And I love it.”

Remy turned red. “I...What does that even  _ mean?!” _

“You just...never fail to make me smile, I guess,” Emile said with a small shrug. “I don’t know. This whole thing just feels...right. And even when you’re sarcastic, you’re still trying to be considerate of others. It’s nice to see you like that. Kind and funny and just...being your authentic self.”

Remy sputtered. How exactly was he supposed to respond to that? It was a genuine compliment, and he didn’t do genuine compliments! Not directed towards himself, at any rate! “Not allowed!” Remy exclaimed.

Emile laughed. “Remy, give it up, I’m going to compliment you and there’s nothing you can do about it,” he warned.

“There’s gotta be something I can do to make you stop,” Remy said, crossing his arms stubbornly.

“Not really,” Emile said, smile slipping off his face. “Why don’t you want to be complimented?”

“It feels weird,” Remy said, wrinkling his nose. “I don’t like it.”

“How does it feel weird?” Emile asked.

Remy shrugged. How did he explain this? “I don’t know how to accept compliments. Like, if I worked hard on something and someone is impressed I can say ‘thank you’ but if someone is complimenting  _ me _ for just being  _ myself? _ It doesn’t feel right.”

“Clearly you weren’t shown enough love as a child,” Emile said with a snort. Then, he paled. “Oh. Oh, God, I’m so sorry! I did not think that through!”

Remy was just snickering, though. “Emile, it’s okay. That was kinda funny. I wouldn’t make a habit of those jokes, but in this one specific circumstance, it was all right.”

“It’s still not an okay thing for me to joke about,” Emile said.

“Eh. I appreciate dark humor. You’re  _ fine, _ honey.” Remy paused. “I would avoid making those jokes around other people, but you don’t need to worry about me today, all right?”

“I guess,” Emile said hesitantly.

“Hey, you’re learning to not beat yourself up as much, that’s progress!” Remy said with a grin. “Now how about we get ready to go to the shelter?”

Emile stuck his tongue out at Remy and Remy stuck his tongue out right back with a laugh. Remy grabbed his jacket and Emile put on his shoes and they were walking to the shelter. Emile grabbed Remy’s hand and Remy grinned. “I love it when you hold my hand,” he said. “You don’t mind being associated with me. It’s nice.”

“Of course I don’t mind being associated with you, Rem, you’re my boyfriend,” Emile said.

“Yeah, but...you know we could in theory get in trouble for holding hands,” Remy said.

“Not from anyone who truly matters,” Emile said with a shrug. “I love you more than I love any homophobes.”

“Even your grandfather?” Remy asked, skeptical.

“Even my grandfather,” Emile said. His eyes grew distant and somewhat sad, but he continued before Remy could apologize. “I stayed with you even after he said we could pretend New Year’s Eve never happened if I dumped you. He loved who I wanted to be. But if he can’t love me for who I am,  _ all _ of who I am, then I won’t work for his approval. I refuse to fit into whatever uncomfortable mold he made for me just because it makes  _ him _ more comfortable.”

“He said that?” Remy asked. “He said you could have him back in your life and you didn’t take him up on the offer?”

“Rem,” Emile said, turning to look at him, deadly serious, “His condition was for me to have a life without you in it. I’m not willing to have that. I’m not putting up with that as a demand. It’s not fair to you, or to me. And I would rather have you in my life than my grandfather. I hate that it came down to that choice, but at the end of the day, I pick you.”

“Why?” Remy asked. “Why me? You could have anyone, you could find a girl to settle down with, let your grandfather have a spot in your life, have his approval. Don’t you want that?”

“Not more than I want you in my life,” Emile said, kissing Remy’s cheek.

Remy was blushing furiously as they walked into the shelter. “I don’t understand you, Emile.”

“I know, Rem,” Emile said with a smile as the kids started to swarm them. “Just know that I love you, okay?”

“Okay,” Remy said with a sigh.

The kids were all speaking over each other, asking Emile if he wanted to play this game, or that game, or what he wanted to do in general. But then, one of the girls asked a question that made Remy surprised. “Can Mister Remy play with us too?”

“I don’t know,” Emile said. “Mister Remy is kinda busy in the kitchen most of the time, making sure that all the food gets cooked properly. But if we talk to Bernie, and Mister Remy wants to, I bet he can play with us.”

Remy blinked as Emile turned to him expectantly. When it dawned on Remy that he was supposed to respond, he scratched the back of his neck. “I mean, do you really want me to play with you?”

“Duh!” the girl said. “You’re really cool! And you and Mister Emile have tons of fun together, he said so himself! I wanna see what kinda games you can come up with!”

“I mean...I guess I could ask Bernie if he’s okay with me playing with you guys tonight...but I’m not the best at games. Usually Emile here is the one who comes up with the games, and I just play along.”

The girl shrugged. “I still think it would be fun to play with you.”

Remy laughed. “Okay. I’ll ask Bernie if it’s okay.”

Judging by the way Emile smiled as the kids cheered, the kids weren’t the only ones who wanted Remy around that evening.


	70. Chapter 70

####  **August 27th, 2000**

Emile was trying not to bounce around looking at everything on campus, but he couldn’t deny the spring in his step. He was so excited to be around a real college, that he was going to be attending! He was looking forward to this more than words could say, honestly.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw another tour group, and noticed one of the guys in it trudging along at the back of the group. Emile inwardly frowned. He had seen this guy around campus a couple times, and every time he looked like he would rather be anywhere else.

Emile resolved to say hi to him at some point. After all, everyone needed at least one friend, and this guy looked like he didn’t have any yet.

####  **August 26th, 2002**

Emile led the wide-eyed freshman around the campus with a small smile. All of them were so excitable, chattering about the possibilities of no longer living with their parents, of being able to meet new friends, of getting jobs and being adults. The freshmen were allowed to wander the campus for a bit, and Emile sat down on one of the benches with a sigh. Hesitantly, one of the freshmen from another group approached him. “Uh...sorry to bother you, are you Emile?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” he said, offering a tired grin. “Completely exhausted and certifiably insane, according to my boyfriend.”

“Oh. Um, I can go if you want a break...”

“Nah, it’s okay, sit down,” Emile sat, patting the bench beside him. “What’s eating at you?”

The kid sat down, fiddled with his hands, staring at his lap, then, he looked at Emile and blurted, “I’m not sure if I want to go to college.”

Emile nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay?” the kid asked. “Everyone I told before just...laughed.”

“I’m not everyone,” Emile said simply. “You’re part of Clara’s group, aren’t you?”

“Uh, yeah. She said I should talk to you about this because of your boyfriend. Um. He’s not part of the freshman orientation, is he?”

Emile laughed. “No!” he exclaimed. “Remy dropped out of college his freshman year and never looked back.”

“Oh,” the kid said. “He doesn’t...regret it?”

“No,” Emile said. “College just wasn’t for him. And that’s perfectly okay for anyone. Granted, he doesn’t talk to his parents anymore, but that’s an entirely different layer of complicated.”

“My parents...they’re kinda overbearing,” the kid said with a grimace. “They didn’t like any of the majors I might have been interested in. They made me choose pre-med. I would have rather gone with English, if I went with anything at all. I know there’s not a lot of jobs for English majors...but I’m not sure about college, period. And I would want to learn what I wanted to learn about.”

Emile nodded. “Makes sense. I’m sorry your parents are like that.”

“Eh. I mean, fourteen years of school later and I have a PhD and no reason to talk to them anymore,” the kid said with a weak smile. “But I don’t want to be here. I don’t like it. I just...I would rather have a minimum wage job for the rest of my life. I could live through retail, and like...maybe I wouldn’t make the most money, but I could do something, you know?”

“Yeah,” Emile said with a nod. “That’s what my boyfriend is doing. Two minimum wage jobs and I work a third, so we get the bills paid and we have food on the table.”

The kid blew out a breath. “I’m jealous,” he said with a weak laugh.

“What’s your name?” Emile asked.

“Darren,” the kid said.

“Darren, I’m going to tell you a secret,” Emile said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You can change your major to whatever you want, and your parents don’t have a say. They don’t need to sign off on it. You’re an adult, you can do it all on your own. Now, I wouldn’t recommend dropping out of college just yet, because if you  _ can _ get through it without harm, it can help you. But if you really would rather work retail, maybe get a Communications or a Business degree. Those could help you become a manager someplace. Get a job, get your foot in the door, and work your way up the corporate ladder, you know?”

Darren nodded slowly. “I guess...” he said reluctantly. “What if I burn out, though? I’ve already done so much school, more just seems overwhelming...”

“If you burn out you’re under no obligation to continue,” Emile said. “But I of course have to tell you to give it a shot first, if for no other reason than because I’m currently promoting the college.” Darren laughed at that. “Did that answer some of your questions?”

“Yeah,” Darren said, giving him a relieved smile. “College isn’t the only way to go. You know, I think I’m gonna change my major when school starts. And after that, I’ll call my parents and explain. Maybe if they hear how I feel directly from me, they’ll change their mind. In all honesty, I think I could be happiest at a trade school. Maybe they could help me with that.”

“I hope so,” Emile said with a smile. “And if not, you can do it on your own. It won’t be easy, but you can.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Emile,” Darren said, standing.

“Of course!” Emile chirped. “If you ever want to talk more, Clara has an uncanny sense of where I might be at any given time. She can find me.”

Darren laughed with a nod and walked away, a small, hopeful smile on his face.

“You didn’t tell me you’re already a therapist, Emile,” Remy said from behind him.

“I’m not. I’m just a good listener. I listen to what you say and I listen to what he says, and then I use what you’ve told me to talk to him,” Emile said, looking back over the bench with a smile. “What’s up?”

“Just checking on you. Seeing how you’re faring with the gremlins,” Remy said with a grin as he leaned on the back of the bench.

“We were those gremlins not so long ago,” Emile reminded him.

“Ugh, I know. Definitely not my finest moments,” Remy said with an exaggerated shudder and eye-roll.

Emile laughed and Remy rounded the bench to sit with him. “So, how’s everything,  _ mio amore? _ Are you attacked with nostalgia or are you cringing at the thought that you were bouncier than most of these freshmen?”

“Nostalgia, I guess, although I don’t really get either of those,” Emile said. “I’m more...astounded. Like, these kids are going to be going out into the world on their own in four years, possibly sooner. Looking back on what we did, I’m shocked that we could achieve that. You’re eighteen, nineteen years old, you know you’re not invincible but you still feel like you have a grip on everything, like you understand the world enough to do things on your own...and now we’re sitting here, twenty and twenty one, and we’re both just laughing at how wrong we were.”

Remy nodded. “Brain development is a bitch,” he said simply.

Emile barked out a laugh, clamping a hand over his mouth as he shook in his laughter. “Remy! That’s rude! These kids  _ are _ technically adults!”

“Technically,” Remy pointed out. “And  _ you _ just called them kids.”

“Look,” Emile said, trying his hardest to remain serious and failing. “All I’m saying is that looking backwards is weird, knowing what you thought but now realizing that it was so wrong.”

Remy sighed. “Yeah.” He got a glint in his eye that Emile didn’t like. “So I have a question based on that,” he said, waggling his eyebrows.

“I don’t like where this is going. Ask me,” Emile said.

“Do you think you’d still donate your sperm today?” Remy asked with a wicked grin.

“Remy!” Emile exclaimed, whacking Remy with his arm. “Can you imagine what would happen if one of the students I was supposed to be teaching about the campus overheard that question?”

“I imagine they’d ask if you got any money for it,” Remy said with a shrug. “Would you?”

Emile made a noise in the back of his throat. “Yeah, probably,” he said. “And I wouldn’t be anonymous, either. Those kids have the right to know where they came from, and if I get sick later down the line they should know there’s a risk for that. I might not be so convinced that someone would actually  _ use _ it, but...”

“Hey, Emile, you’re cute, you’re smart, and you’re probably gonna end up with a PhD one day. You’d be a catch for  _ any _ lady at the sperm bank,” Remy said definitively.

“You say that,” Emile laughed. “I don’t know exactly how much you’ll believe it later down the line, when we get older. We’ll probably look back at that decision one day and figure out that I was stupid.”

“Nah, I don’t think so,” Remy said. “You wanted to help families become families. That’s not stupid, that’s admirable.”

“So would  _ you _ donate  _ yours?” _ Emile asked.

Remy choked and stared at Emile. “No,” he said. “No. I’ve never had a deep-rooted desire to have a family, whether that’s through donating my sperm or settling down and adopting. Like, I’m not against families, you know? But when it comes to  _ being a dad, _ I don’t know how well I’d do.”

“How come?” Emile asked.

Remy shrugged. “I dunno. Like, I would not want to end up being like my parents were, you know? And I could overcompensate trying to not be them and wind up ignoring kids, or I could fall back into old habits and hurt them. Like. Okay, looking at us ten to twenty years from now. Assuming we’re still together. Were we to adopt. Could I see myself being a competent dad? I guess. There’s a lot I’d have to work through to get to that point, though.”

“Are you talking, like...therapy, or...?” Emile asked.

Remy sighed. “Emile, I don’t need a therapist. Not at this point in time, maybe not ever after this, you know? But in this hypothetical situation, I could see unforeseen circumstances making me panic and possibly needing to...talk that through with someone. So maybe I don’t need therapy now. But if we’re talking hypotheticals, I’m not blind. I know there could be issues that come up with kids. So in that  _ one specific circumstance, _ there’s the  _ possibility _ I’d need therapy. You happy?”

“Is it bad if I say yes?” Emile asked with a little laugh. “Because I’m just glad that you could see yourself needing help and accepting that help.”

Remy wrinkled his nose. “It’s not needing help, it’s therapy.”

Emile blinked. “That’s...those two things are exactly the same, Rem.”

“No, like...therapy is for people with PTSD, or people who got seriously hurt, or people who are stereotypically seen as ‘crazy,’ much as I hate that term,” Remy said. “It’s not just about needing help with, like, feeling like you have a dead-end job or whatever.”

“Rem, that’s exactly what it is,” Emile said. “Therapy is help with whatever is bugging you in your life at that moment. So you went to therapy because your parents were making you suicidal. That doesn’t mean that it can’t help with smaller things.”

Remy squinted at Emile, and Emile rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe we’re back to arguing about this. We went through this freshman year, Rem!”

“Yeah, but you’re...you’re describing it differently,” Remy said.

“Not really,” Emile said. “You’re seeing it in a different light, because you’ve matured.”

Remy frowned. “I don’t get therapy. I just don’t.”

“That’s okay, since you’re not the one training to be a therapist,” Emile said with a little laugh. “Although, I will say that I agree with you, by and large. You  _ don’t _ need a therapist.”

Remy looked shocked. “You’re agreeing with me on that one?”

“You’re well-adjusted, all things considered,” Emile said with a shrug. “Whether or not you  _ want _ therapy or could  _ benefit _ from therapy is a different question. But right now, you don’t  _ need _ a therapist.”

“I...wow,” Remy said. “That may be the first time you’ve ever said that I don’t need mental help.”

“I hate when you phrase it like that,” Emile said. “It makes you sound like you’re that stereotypical ‘crazy person.’ People who go to therapy just need help, period. Not in the ‘they’re hopeless’ way, but in the ‘they’re struggling and this is how they find their footing’ way.”

Remy considered. “And that’s all it is?”

“That’s all it is,” Emile said. “And you don’t need a therapist, and I won’t force you to find one. But I will say that if you do ever need help again, there’s no shame in that.”

“...Yeah,” Remy said. “I think I’m starting to figure that out.”


	71. Chapter 71

####  **January 10th, 1997**

Remy was looking at the test his latest table-mate had given him and he frowned. “What’s so bad about it?” he asked.

“It’s a ninety seven!” she exclaimed.

“Yeah, so? I barely got a seventy two,” Remy said with a shrug. “It’s okay to not get everything perfect, or even close to perfect. All that matters is that you pass.”

“Figures you’d see it that way,” she scoffed. “You don’t care about grades at all. Do you even know where you’re going to college?”

“Don’t know, don’t care, Cindy,” Remy said. “I’m fifteen. I don’t have to care yet.”

She scoffed again and stormed off as the bell rang and Remy rolled his eyes. Another potential friendship avoided. Good. He had been worried he wouldn’t be able to shake this one. And perfectionists rubbed him a very particular wrong way that was  _ not _ pleasant.

####  **September 5th, 2002**

Remy was working in the kitchen when Emile came up from behind him for a hug. “Hey, love,” Emile said.

“Mm, hi,  _ mio amore,” _ Remy said. “Decided you’re finally ready for lunch?”

“Yeah. I was just doing some drawing earlier to fulfill the art class requirement I’ve been putting off, but the drawings are done for now. I just want to eat,” Emile said with a laugh.

“What were you drawing?” Remy asked.

“You,” Emile said. “Like, it wasn’t realistic figure drawings because I wasn’t looking at you, but I was working in different cartoon styles, and I figured I may as well draw one of the people I know best.”

Remy turned a slight red even as he continued to work. “Do I get to see these drawings eventually?”

“Yeah, if you want,” Emile said. “So long as you don’t tell me that my imitations of my favorite cartoon styles suck.”

“I would never say that,” Remy said. “You’re a pretty good drawer, actually. Maybe not make-a-living-off-it good, but definitely a your-art-shows-lots-of-care good.”

“Really?” Emile asked, and he looked surprised.

Remy paused in his work and faced Emile fully. “Yeah, Emile. You’re really good at art.” Emile frowned, and Remy mirrored the action. “Is there any reason that you wouldn’t think that?” Had he just found one of Emile’s insecurities?

“I mean, I guess not, it’s just...” Emile shrugged. “There’s a lot of things wrong with it. It’s like when I get a question wrong on a test. I  _ know _ it’s wrong, but I can’t fix it.”

Remy squinted and walked past Emile, to the card table, where his sketchbook was still open. “Emile, your drawings look fine.”

“Fine, sure. But they’re not exactly  _ good,” _ Emile said, walking over and pointing. “See, the eyes are slightly off compared to the She-Ra style, and in the Looney Tunes style I can’t get the hands and the fingers properly. And these are just the sketches I’m okay with other people seeing.”

Remy stared at Emile, then at the drawings, then Emile. “Emile, I’m not a cartoon expert like you are, but I know enough about art style differences from comics to understand this was just done by a different artist. It’s not  _ wrong, _ it’s just a slight difference, like what can happen when more than one animator works on a project. The difference is that in animation, the frames go by so fast that it’s usually imperceptible.”

“No, it’s not the same style if it doesn’t look exactly the same. Otherwise it’s just an imitation,” Emile said.

“Okay...correct me if I’m wrong, but I thought you were just going for an imitation,” Remy said.

“I mean, yeah, but I realized how close I was and wanted it to be in the genuine style...and I couldn’t get it,” Emile mumbled the last part, turning away.

“What do you mean, honey? You definitely got it right,” Remy said.

“But I didn’t,” Emile argued.

Remy blinked. “Okay, maybe it’s not  _ perfect, _ but—”

“—See?! You just said yourself that I didn’t get it!” Emile exclaimed.

Remy paused. Took a breath. Let it out slowly. “That’s not what I said,” he said calmly. Forcing away the irritation at being interrupted and the annoyance that Emile was apparently not listening to him. “I said you didn’t have it perfect. Not having it perfect doesn’t mean you don’t have it.”

“Yes it does!” Emile exclaimed with a huff.

The irritation faded away and was replaced with a blooming bud of concern. “No, it doesn’t, Emile...why would you think that?”

Emile laughed incredulously. “Do you really not know?”

“No,” Remy said. “I really don’t.”

“When I was in kindergarten the first time around, I was ‘the stupid one.’ I know you’ve heard this before, but listen. When it clicked and I finally knew how to read, I went to the top of my class in just about everything. Suddenly, school was impossibly easy. And everything I did was just considered perfect, perfect, perfect. That’s all it could be, that’s all it  _ can _ be. I’m not allowed to fail. Because if I fail, then I’m just that stupid five-year-old who couldn’t even spell his own name. And suddenly everyone starts questioning me, saying they thought I was  _ smart, _ I was supposed to  _ understand this, _ and isn’t it  _ easy? _ Why am I  _ struggling?! _ I just need to push through until I understand, but I’m not even allowed to ask for help, because oh, that’s just for the  _ stupid _ kids, Emile, and you’re not stupid! If something isn’t perfect, then it’s a problem. And I’m not supposed to have any more problems. Not after that.”

Remy didn’t know what to say. “Christ, Emile,” he breathed. “That’s terrible.”

Emile laughed and shook his head. “Not particularly,” he said, even as he was starting to cry. “Just the burden of being the smart kid, I guess. You have to keep up the appearance even if you have no idea what you’re doing. Because otherwise all the teachers see is that dumb kid who couldn’t tell the difference between an ‘o’ and a ‘v.’”

“I thought only your teen years were traumatic, but Christ. That’s just...I don’t have any words. I was never really ‘the smart kid,’ I never had to deal with that, but...wow, so many things make sense now,” Remy said. He shook his head. “Not the point, not the point. Okay. Emile, I’m going to tell you something, and I want you to listen to me when I say it, okay?”

Emile took off his glasses, wiping away his tears, and he nodded. “I’m listening.”

Remy grabbed Emile’s cheeks and brought their foreheads together. “You have my explicit permission to fail.”

“You...what?” Emile asked.

“You have my permission to fail. Okay? If you don’t get everything perfect, you’re not stupid in my eyes. If your graduating GPA is three point nine, I won’t focus on the one class you got a ‘B’ in. I’ll focus on the fact that all your other classes you  _ aced _ with all ‘A’s! That’s freaking amazing! I would never be able to do that! If you get one thing wrong, if you ‘fail’ in your eyes, that’s  _ okay. _ No one can be perfect all the time. It’s okay to need help. It’s not just for people who are struggling. This operates on the same principles as therapy. Therapy is not just for people who are drowning in their own emotions, it’s also to teach those people how to swim, or to find a boat. The same is true if you have to ask a professor a question, or enlist the skills of a tutor. You’re not stupid for doing those things, you’re learning more so you don’t make the same mistakes in the future.” Remy kissed Emile. “You’re not stupid, Emile, and you never  _ have _ been stupid. ‘Stupid’ as a concept is just...well, it’s stupid. It makes no sense. And getting one or two questions wrong on a test doesn’t mean you’re stupid. It means you got all the other questions  _ right, _ and you get to learn from those mistakes.”

Emile blinked. “What if I get  _ all _ the questions wrong?” he asked, voice small.

“You’re still not stupid. You just need to stress less and maybe study harder next time. But I doubt that would happen, okay? You’re Emile freaking Thomas, and you can do anything you set your mind to. Don’t sell yourself short,” Remy said, giving Emile a crooked grin at the end.

Emile slowly removed Remy’s hands from his face and stared at the floor. “Honey, I appreciate the sentiment, but...I can’t just  _ stop _ this. I’ve been doing it for fifteen years.”

“I know you can’t just stop it at will, honey, that’s not what I’m asking of you,” Remy said. “I’m asking you to go a little easier on yourself. You don’t  _ have _ to be perfect. If you get everything right, more power to you, but beat yourself up a little less if you make a mistake. If you do nothing else, at least remind yourself that you have my permission to fail? That no one will hate you or think that you’re stupid if you mess up?”

“I...” Emile trailed off, actually  _ considering _ Remy’s words, which Remy counted as a win. “Yeah, okay.”

“Yeah?” Remy asked.

“Yeah, I’ll try,” Emile said, not looking Remy in the eye, but his tone sounded hopeful. “It would be nice to not feel like everything has to be perfect, I think.”

“You’ll either find it incredibly liberating or incredibly terrifying, I think. Possibly both,” Remy said drily.

Emile snorted. “I’m willing to bet you’re right,” he said with a nod. “I’ve never really considered what it would be like to be allowed to fail. Even when we moved out of the college dorms, I didn’t think about the possibility of failing and not managing our money correctly, because failure just wasn’t an option. And I guess it saved us issues with rent and food and the like, but I’m willing to bet it did a number on my mental health too. Just a hunch.”

Remy laughed. “Honey, you’ve worked yourself sick before because you’re so focused on helping friends and going to work  _ and _ keeping that perfect GPA. I  _ know _ for a fact that it’s done a number on you not only mentally, but physically.”

“Okay, I see your point,” Emile said with a slightly sheepish smile. “That was me going a little overboard.”

“More than a little,” Remy said with a snort. “That in and of itself was a bit of a failure. Failure to take care of yourself.”

Emile went oddly quiet, before he softly went, “Oh.”

“Oh?” Remy asked.

“I have failed in the past, then,” Emile said. “And you didn’t change how you treated me. I mean, you might have called me stupid for pushing myself too far and getting myself sick, but you didn’t...treat me like I didn’t know what I was doing.”

“That’s because you  _ do _ know what you’re doing,” Remy said. “Making one or two mistakes, or outright failing doesn’t mean you don’t know anything. It means you might need things explained to you in a different way, or just explained period, but you know way more than most people, Emile. I would argue you’re smarter than most twenty one year olds I’ve met. At least, academically. Street smarts are another story.”

“Look, that was  _ one _ time I got lost on the way home from McDonald’s!” Emile defended. “That doesn’t mean I don’t have street smarts!”

Remy burst out laughing. “No, that means that you have no sense of direction,  _ and _ no street smarts.”

“This coming from the guy who purposefully picked a fight with a guy who was buddies with linebackers from the football team,” Emile snorted. “That’s not exactly prime ‘street smarts’ either, mister.”

“Okay, okay, so we’re  _ both _ dumbasses coming to street smarts! I still know more than you on that front!” Remy exclaimed.

“Oh, you wish!” Emile declared, “I’d bet  _ actual money _ that I have more street smarts than you.”

“A fool and his money are soon parted,” Remy said with a wicked grin. “But fine. If you’re so certain, let’s get an impartial party to determine this. Next time we see Bernie, we’ll ask him. But be prepared to lose whatever money you’re betting!”

“We have joint bank accounts in all but name anyway,” Emile said with a shrug. “We regularly buy stuff for each other. What difference does it make if that money is in my account or yours?”

“You have a point,” Remy hummed. “Okay. How about we bet food? If you win, we get the stuff to bake cupcakes. If  _ I _ win, we get the stuff for brownies. And the loser has to help bake the sweets that we’ll be eating for the next two weeks or so.”

“Oh, you are  _ so _ on!” Emile exclaimed.

Remy grinned. Emile was hopefully going to go a little easier on himself,  _ and _ Remy was going to get to eat brownies next week! This was great!


	72. Chapter 72

####  **November 11th, 2001**

Emile sat at the table, staring at the letter he was holding with great consternation. Faith had written him, and he had written her back, talking about Remy and how they were getting along, and generally, how everything seemed nice and domestic lately. And Faith had replied, throwing Emile a curveball.

_ Would you marry him, Emile? It’s obvious to everyone you’ve written to that you love him. We’ve all talked about it at one point or another. We all think you should, if you love him as much as you say you do. _

Emile didn’t know how to respond. Would he marry Remy? The mere thought felt like he was going to spiral into a panic attack. But at the same time...he couldn’t deny the warmth he felt in his chest about the idea.

He put the letter away, resolving to respond to it when he had a better answer than “I don’t know.” He knew Faith wouldn’t let the matter drop if he waffled on the decision.

####  **September 20th, 2002**

Emile couldn’t help but laugh as he saw a familiar face he knew all too well approaching him on campus. “Theo!” Emile exclaimed, running over and giving his friend a huge hug. “What’s up? I didn’t think you were coming to visit for a little while yet! I thought you’d still be sick of Fairview!”

Theo laughed and hugged Emile back. “I actually swung by to chat with you and Remy. I’m having housing issues and I was hoping you two might have some advice on finding a roomie and splitting rent, y’know? Falling in love is not required, but it is a plus.”

Emile laughed. “Well, you’re in luck, because I just finished my last class and I was heading to the parking lot. Remy’s not off his shift at the local coffee shop yet, but we can hang around the shop until he’s off and we can snag him, and you can come back to ours!” Theo nodded and they walked to the parking lot together. “So, what sort of housing problems are you having? Prices? Roommates? Lack of roommates?”

“All of the above?” Theo weakly joked. “My current roommates are barely pulling their weight, I can’t find new ones, and none of the half-decent places are in my price range, so if I move out, I have to settle for a run-down one room which probably has massive problems.”

“Yikes,” Emile said with a grimace. “That’s seriously not good.”

“Tell me about it,” Theo said. “You two made it look so easy, I don’t know how you did it. I’m ready to throttle my roommates at any given moment for stealing my food, invading my privacy in my room, or for inviting people over who inevitably trash the place.”

“I mean, the fact that Remy and I tolerated each other and had pretty clear boundaries from the start helped,” Emile said. “I have no doubt you tried to set boundaries, but I’m willing to bet those roommates of yours didn’t respect them, did they?”

“Not after the first few weeks, no,” Theo sighed. “And they brushed me off every time I tried to talk to them about it.”

“Ouch. You definitely need better roommates, Theo,” Emile said.

Theo nodded. “I don’t know anyone else in that area, though, unfortunately. I’m thinking about moving back here, however temporarily, because I know a few people here who might be willing to split rent with me.”

“That might be a good idea,” Emile agreed. “Provided you can stand being around the college you went to, that is.”

“Somehow I think I’ll live,” Theo laughed. “Like, some people might give me grief, but they’re my friends so I wouldn’t mind too much. The biggest problem, for me, is going to be finding a job in my field. Forensic science is all well and good until you’re forced to move back to a city with a low crime rating so all the spots where you might be able to work forensics have been filled for years.”

“Ooh, ouch,” Emile said with a wince.

“Yep,” Theo said with a strained laugh. “It’s...not great, for sure. I really need to find somewhere that I can work, and somewhere that I can afford my own place at the same time, y’know? But the housing market is ridiculously expensive, and I heard it’s only gonna get worse.”

Emile grimaced. “Yikes, yeah, I’ve heard inflation is getting pretty bad. I haven’t had to worry about it as much, but if you’re looking for a place...”

“It totally sucks, dude,” Theo said with absolute certainty, leaning back into the passenger seat of Emile’s car. “Oh, but since I’m here, and Remy’s not...how’s the project going, man?”

Emile offered Theo a big grin. “I’ve got the property,” he said, eyes lighting up. “Turns out it was almost gonna be demolished, because no one’s been picking it up. But it’s in good condition. All I really need is the inside and everything will be ready!”

“The inside is gonna take a while, though, you know that, right?” Theo asked. “Getting everything up to code, renovating what’s been getting run down, electricity, plumbing...”

“I know,” Emile said. “But I have the worst of it over with. The property’s bought. And I know Remy’s specifications for what he wants on the inside, and he’s none the wiser to the plan, and...man, this will be ready by mid to late December if everything goes right!”

“It could be your birthday present to him,” Theo lightly teased.

Emile gasped. “Oh my God, it  _ could! _ Can you  _ believe _ that, Theo?! I could make this Remy’s birthday gift! His very own shop!”

Theo laughed. “You’re such a mess, Emile. On one hand, you’re a highly skilled, well-rounded adult, but on the other, your emotions come into play and it’s like you’re a five year old on Christmas morning. And your emotions are  _ always _ in play when it comes to Remy. Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice to see you being loving and excited and  _ human, _ but your reasoning skills when you’re emotional?” Theo made a whistling noise with his teeth, “Out the window.”

“Hey! I’ve made good decisions when I’m emotional before!” Emile laughed.

“Yeah, because you put your emotions to the  _ side. _ That’s not making rational decisions when emotional, that’s looking at things from a rational angle rather than an emotional one. And you do kinda bottle up those emotions when making the decisions, don’t think no one’s noticed.”

“I—well—yeah...” Emile reluctantly admitted. “Remy’s been helping me with that, though.”

“Yeah, he’s told me as much in his emails,” Theo said. “And I’m proud of both of you. You for allowing your emotions a place and a time, and Remy for being willing to help with that sort of thing instead of leaving you to your own devices.”

“We both have grown a lot,” Emile agreed as they pulled into the coffee shop parking lot.

Theo and Emile got out of the car and walked into the shop, Emile asking, “You want anything to drink? My treat.”

“I could take a small coffee,” Theo said.

Emile nodded and got in line, telling Theo, “Grab a table for both of us?”

Theo nodded and Emile couldn’t help the little smile on his lips. He was just having coffee with a friend. It shouldn’t seem all that important, but it felt strangely  _ adult, _ and he didn’t know why that made him giddy, but it did. Just being able to sit down and complain about roommates and jobs and...just getting adjusted to the new normal that life was winding up being.

Emile placed their orders and found Theo sitting in a corner, and he gave Theo his coffee while Emile kept his tea. Theo waited until Emile was taking a sip of his tea before he asked, “So, are you gonna pop the question?”

Choking on his tea, Emile stared at Theo, who was shaking with silent laughter. “Theo!” he gasped. “Come on! That’s mean!”

“Well, I’m just wondering!” Theo asked innocently.

Emile sighed. “Well, it’s not exactly like we could get married anywhere yet,” he said. “It feels like a moot point.”

“It’s a symbolic thing, man. Even if you can only get a ‘civil union’ or whatever, the promise of staying together until the end of the line is there,” Theo said.

“But we already have that promise with each other,” Emile said, frowning.

“Precisely why I’m asking about this,” Theo said. “You’ve already got it, so when are you making it official?”

“Theo, believe me when I say whenever gay marriage is an option I will  _ absolutely _ be marrying Remy. And it will be the best day of my life. But until it’s legalized, or at least it’s in the process of being legalized, I don’t see the point of getting a ring,” Emile said with a shrug. “Oh, and before I forget, when that day comes? You’d better be my best man.”

It was Theo’s turn to choke on his coffee. “Dude, you kidding me?! Of  _ course _ I’d be your best man! I’m honored! But is there like, no one else you’d rather have?”

“Theo, the only person closer than you and our friend group in terms of friendship with me is Remy. And I’d be  _ marrying _ him. I can’t exactly have him be my best man.”

Theo beamed. “Man, you’d better be inviting  _ all _ your friends to this hypothetical wedding. That includes your high school ones. I can’t wait to embarrass you in front of them.”

“They knew me when I was thirteen, can’t get much more embarrassing than that,” Emile said simply.

“Ooh, I’d love to pick up some stories from them,” Theo said, grinning and rubbing his hands.

Emile laughed just as Remy walked over. “What’s the deal with this party without me?”

“Remy!” Theo exclaimed, standing up and hugging Remy.

Remy returned the hug with a grin. “Good to see you, man. What’s up?”

“Housing issues, actually,” Theo said. “I need your and Emile’s advice about finding new roomies.”

“And in the process, try and get us to get engaged, apparently,” Emile said drily.

“What, we’re not married already?” Remy asked with a laugh.

Emile snorted and Theo said, “Nah, man. You haven’t tied the knot. I would know, I’m Emile’s best man, and he hasn’t stuck me in a tux yet.”

Remy grinned. “Well, that’s great and all, except for me, because now I have to find a different best man for the big day.”

“Yeah, I’m not making two best man speeches,” Theo laughed. “Would you seriously ask me, though?”

Remy shrugged. “I dunno, man. Like, thinking about it, I never really planned out a wedding for anyone I had crushed on or dated. And Toby was gonna be my best man, because I asked him once and he promised...but since we lost contact...” Remy shrugged. “You’d be an excellent second choice. But I’ll figure something else out.”

“All right,” Theo laughed.

“You officially off the clock, Rem?” Emile asked.

“Yup,” Remy said. “And ready to go home.”

“Oh, man, I wish I could say that,” Theo bemoaned.

“Yeah, let’s talk about your housing, man, what’s up?” Remy asked.

As Theo explained what was going on and they walked out of the shop, Emile’s gears were whirring. He would definitely need to find Toby soon. Especially considering that sooner or later he knew he would be finding a ring for Remy. He didn’t know when that might be, but Theo was right. The promise of staying together until the end of the line deserved  _ something _ important.

It  _ was _ funny, though. The thought of marrying Remy just felt...inherently right. As Remy and Emile fought over who should drive the car back to their apartment, Emile considered marrying anyone else, of any gender, of anyone he had previously dated, and it never rung as true as what he felt when imagining marrying Remy.

Remy won the argument for driving the car and Emile slid into the passenger seat, glancing at Theo in the back. “You know what, Theo? You’re right.”

Theo grinned. “I know I am, dude. But I’m glad that you can see that too.”

“He’s right about what?” Remy asked.

“One day, I’m gonna marry you,” Emile said simply.

“Oh,” Remy said. “I mean, yeah? Marriage is terrifying, but there’s no one I’d rather marry.”

“I’m glad we’re in agreement,” Emile said.

“Do you know when you’re gonna propose?” Remy asked.

“Not yet,” Emile said. “Need to find a ring first, figure out the right moment. But I’m definitely proposing to you.”

“Not if I do it first, buddy,” Remy said with a wicked grin.

“Oh, it is  _ on,” _ Emile said.

Theo laughed. “Are you two really turning proposals into a competition?” he asked.

“Best proposal wins the excuse to kiss the other person for a solid minute,” Emile said solemnly.

“Oh, you are  _ so _ on!” Remy exclaimed with a laugh.

Theo just cackled at their antics.


	73. Chapter 73

####  **November 30th, 2001**

“You boys have a lot of explaining to do!” Grace snapped at Emile and Remy the second they walked in the apartment building.

“What? Why?” Emile asked. “Everything okay, Grace?”

“There was a woman screaming for the two of you all day on Thanksgiving,” Grace said with a scowl. “I couldn’t get a wink of sleep that morning.”

Remy paled but Emile just grabbed Remy’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’m sorry, Grace. I didn’t realize that woman might come looking for us while we were out of town, but I should have.”

Remy was trembling as Grace muttered a dark, “Don’t let it happen again,” walking away.

“Should we file a restraining order?” Emile muttered to Remy.

“Maybe we should just move,” Remy mumbled back.

####  **October 16th, 2002**

Remy stared at the ceiling of the bedroom, eyes wide open and mind racing. Emile was curled into his side, sleeping soundly, but Remy couldn’t catch a wink of sleep. He glanced at the clock and watched the seconds tick by for a while, before turning to look at his boyfriend. Emile looked so at peace, and it made Remy a little jealous. He had a small nightmare about his mother and now he couldn’t get back to sleep.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Remy made his way out of the bed without waking up Emile, and padded out to the living room. He glanced outside the windows, just to make sure his mother wasn’t around, and let out a low breath. He was being ridiculous, of course his mother wouldn’t be here. She had gotten the message to leave him alone for the time being, and she hadn’t been back here since...the holidays, where Emile and Remy had been visiting Emile’s family anyway.

Remy moved away from the windows and to the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of water. He felt wide awake, but he knew he needed at least a little sleep if he wanted to be functional at work later today...tomorrow? No, later today, it was past midnight.

Drinking the water down, Remy wandered over to the couch after putting the glass in the sink, and curled up on a corner of the couch, grabbing a book to read. The visibility wasn’t great, but there was just enough light through the windows that Remy could read the words on the page.

As he read, he could feel his nerves calming little by little, and the next thing he knew, he could hear snickering above him. He blinked blearily to find it was the early morning, and Emile was standing over him, staring at him with both amusement and bemusement warring on his face. “Comfy?” Emile asked.

Remy stretched and groaned. “Not really,” he said. “But I couldn’t sleep.”

Emile frowned. “What woke you up?”

“I dreamt about my mother again,” Remy sighed. “She had come back here, with Toby in tow, and the two of them were arguing that I should leave you and come ‘back home.’ And I know Toby would never do that in real life, because he cares about me too much, but the scary thing was that my  _ mother _ could very well do that. And sure, we dodged her last holidays, but what about this year? We’re not heading to your family’s place, we agreed.”

Emile frowned. “I mean, if she shows up we can call the cops,” he said simply. “I know that’s not super comforting, but I’ve been planning to ask you something anyway, and now seems like as good a time as any.”

“Okay...?” Remy asked. A pit of dread was building in his stomach that he couldn’t explain.

“Would you want to move someplace bigger? With more space?” Emile asked. “Obviously, it wouldn’t be right away. But sometime soon. Would that help you sleep easier?”

“I...” Remy was embarrassed at his answer. “Yeah, probably...”

“No shame in that. We can look at townhouses in the area and see if anything jumps out at us,” Emile said with an easy shrug. “Maybe move after the new year.”

“And we wouldn’t have to pay rent anymore, just a mortgage,” Remy said with a small, wry smile.

“Pretty much!” Emile chirped. “Now, I think you need some coffee in your system, and I  _ know _ you need a shower, so how about we start getting ready for the day and continue this talk when we don’t have to worry about me getting to classes and you getting to work?”

“Okay, okay,” Remy said, holding his hands up in surrender and heading to the kitchen to start the coffee maker. “One quick question, though: how much of the mortgage, in theory, would I be able to cover? Because I can cover half of the rent just fine, but a house is gonna be more expensive.”

“Honest answer?” Emile asked. “I don’t know. It’s gonna depend on the house we get, and the loans we get to get the house.”

Remy pulled a face. “Great. I don’t want you paying for the whole thing, Emile, that’s just not fair!”

“Relax, Rem. I could pay the mortgage and you could pay the bills, if that makes you feel a little more even,” Emile said. “But we’re in this together for the long haul. I don’t mind paying more of the mortgage than you, when it’s pretty clear we’re going to be staying together for a long time, if not, you know, the rest of our lives.”

“Oh, God, the rest of our lives,” Remy laughed. “That’s honestly a scary thought.”

“Why?” Emile asked. “I just assumed that was what we’d do?”

“No, no, it’s what I assume, too,” Remy rushed to assure. “I just...don’t really think about what that means too much, and when I do, it scares me. Not the thought of ‘tying myself down’ to one person, or whatever crap straight people say about getting married, but...the prospect of that not actually happening. What would happen if we  _ didn’t _ stay together forever.”

“Well, if we both assume that we’re going to stay together, then there’s no worries,” Emile said. “Because I don’t want to leave you and you don’t want to leave me. So neither of us will be forced to leave.”

“I...guess so...” Remy said slowly.

“But if it’s a scary thought, I don’t want to force you to think about it,” Emile waved off. “And you still need to shower before your coffee is ready.”

Remy stuck his tongue out at Emile but went to take a shower. Internally, his mind was reeling, trying to put pieces of this puzzle together. Remy didn’t want to leave Emile, and Emile didn’t want to leave Remy. The fear of them not being together one day was unfounded, so why was he so scared?

As he stepped into the shower spray, Remy hummed and felt his muscles relax. It was a good question. Was it because that while they would stay together, it wasn’t technically permanent? They couldn’t get married, because no one would marry two men to each other. But you didn’t need the promise of marriage to love someone, right? Right. But...love wasn’t permanent, was it? Someone could say they loved someone and then turn around and dump them on the spot just because the spark wasn’t there anymore.

Emile and Remy had worked hard to make sure their sparks turned into a fireplace that kept going even when they couldn’t constantly tend to it, though, didn’t they? They had worked hard at their love. And yet Remy was still scared of losing Emile. Why?

Well...Toby and Remy loved each other as brothers. They had been inseparable for a long time. And now neither knew where the other one was. Remy had thought Vanessa had loved him, until she went off to college. And if he really wanted to go digging deep...Mom always said she loved him and then would turn around and act like he didn’t exist if he did something she didn’t like. Heaven forbid he break one of the rules, too. Then he’d get  _ punished _ and have his mom say it was “for his own good” and that she loved him still. People in his life who said that they loved him no matter what were rarely telling the truth.

...That was depressing. But it also explained a lot. Remy nearly jumped out of the shower as soon as he was done, hollering, “Hey, Emile! I know where all my commitment issues stem from now!”

Emile opened the door to the bathroom just as Remy was wrapping a towel around his waist and Remy yipped. “Hey! No! Door closed!”

“Sorry, sorry!” Emile exclaimed, closing the door.

Remy walked out, dirty clothes in hand as he huffed. “There’s this great new thing called ‘knocking,’” he quipped.

“We’ve seen each other in less, I thought you wouldn’t mind,” Emile sighed, following Remy into the bedroom as Remy tossed his dirty clothes in the hamper and got new ones out. “Where do your commitment issues stem from?”

“Big shocker, you’re never gonna guess,” Remy said drily, facing away from Emile as he changed and said, “It’s my family. All of ‘em.”

“Wait. Even Toby?” Emile asked, and he sounded genuinely shocked.

“Well, Toby is  _ a _ reason, but he’s not  _ the _ reason,” Remy said. “He’s just...one nail in the coffin. But Vanessa said she loved me until she went off to college. Toby said he loved me and he’d never lose touch with me and then we did. And my mother said she loved me all the time and then turned around and treated me like something to be scraped off her shoe and discarded. I’ve never really had a steady sense of being loved in my life. So when someone says they love me forever, my brain says they don’t really mean forever, and I wait for them to drop me like everyone else always had.”

Emile stared at Remy in shock. “That is horrifying and insightful at the same time,” he said simply.

Remy shrugged and walked to the kitchen getting his morning coffee with a happy sigh. “Yeah. But I know the reason, so hopefully I can work past it now, you know?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Emile said. “That’s good. Tangentially related to that: would you ever want to get married to me?”

“If it was legal, yeah,” Remy said. “Sort of cements the idea that we would never leave each other into place. Why?”

“Because I might be low-key planning a wedding to invite all of your family to and promptly assassinate them,” Emile said simply.

Remy laughed. “I know you’re serious, Emile, but please don’t actually kill them? I don’t want to marry you only for you to spend life in prison.”

“Oh, all right, I’ll spare them for you,” Emile said simply. “But just say the word and they’re dead.”

Remy laughed more and Emile actually cracked a smile, which, considering their current topic of discussion, was surprising. “All seriousness, though,” Emile said. “You would marry me?”

“Emile, I’d propose to you if I knew there was a chance we could get married legally,” Remy said simply. “There’s no chance right now so I’m not planning on saving up for a ring, but that doesn’t mean I won’t in the future.”

“And that doesn’t scare you?” Emile asked.

“Hm? Oh, no, it terrifies me,” Remy said. “But I know the ‘why’ so we can work on it together. And once we have the chance to marry each other, I’ll have that existential crisis. For now, I’m just happy getting to be your boyfriend.”

Emile offered Remy a smile. “You know, when we first met I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t be caught dead calling  _ anyone _ your boyfriend, even if you said you were gay.”

“Well, I would have seen it as a safety issue, especially if that guy wasn’t out to everyone yet,” Remy said simply. “But I’m learning that here is safe. And that’s a good thing, you know? I won’t immediately die if I say I’m attracted to someone.”

“Always a plus,” Emile said. “So. We get a house, we hopefully get engaged and we get married when it’s legal, anything else we should plan for?”

“Should we plan for one of your sperm donor kids showing up at our door?” Remy asked.

Emile burst out laughing. “I don’t think so. The chances of anyone using that sample are so small that the chances of them existing, let alone existing in a bad home life seem infinitesimal.”

“Okay, so house, engagement, marriage. Maybe my own shop. Anything else?” Remy asked.

Emile shrugged. “Me kissing you within the next five minutes?”

Remy grinned. “Only if you’re willing to stand my coffee breath.”

Emile laughed and gave Remy a long, loving kiss. “Somehow, I don’t mind,” he murmured.


	74. Chapter 74

####  **November 12th, 2000**

Emile crossed his arms as he stared at Remy stubbornly. “Come on, Remy. It’s not stupid!” he defended.

Remy scoffed and Emile could feel his irritation rising. He didn’t want to snap, he definitely didn’t want to snap, but Remy certainly wasn’t making this conversation easy... “It’s cartoons, Emile. I’ve never met someone obsessed with cartoons who’s older than the age of twelve. I’ve met people who like anime, sure, but  _ cartoons? _ That’s for kids!”

Emile scowled and considered bringing up how Remy liked comics, and  _ weren’t those for kids, too? _ But decided against it. He wanted Remy to be his friend, he didn’t want them fighting over this all the time. “Let’s just talk about something else,” Emile suggested.

“Please,” Remy agreed.

####  **October 26th, 2002**

Emile was trying his hardest not to laugh as Remy studied the costumes surrounding them like he was trying to read the Rosetta Stone. “Remy, this is not rocket science,” Emile said with a little laugh. “It’s picking out a costume so we can take the kids trick-or-treating Wednesday. You’re not gonna die if you pick something less-than-perfect.”

“That’s not the  _ point, _ Emile,” Remy said back. “I want to pick a good costume because I might be using this for several years. I don’t want to be stuck as something I don’t like for several years.”

Emile looked around at the wall of pictures and sighed. “That might take a while, Rem. And I know it’s a Saturday, and neither of us have work, but you know the store closes at nine, right?”

“Ha. Ha ha. I can make a choice, Emile,” Remy said.

“You say that, and you’ve been staring at the same two costumes for the past fifteen minutes,” Emile said, rolling his eyes.

“Well, picking a costume isn’t  _ easy! _ I can  _ make _ a decision, I just need  _ time,” _ Remy replied. “After all, if you’re going in that cowboy costume again, I need something besides ‘Sleep’ to go as.”

Emile caught sight of a purple and green costume at the end of the aisle and he gasped, clapping his hands over his mouth as he grinned. Remy whirled around to face Emile and Emile was shaking as he tried to hold back his laughter. “What? What did you see?” Remy asked.

“You’re gonna hate me if I point it out,” Emile said, laughing.

“No I won’t,” Remy scoffed. “What did you see?”

Emile silently pointed to the end of the aisle and Remy followed Emile’s finger, promptly rolling his eyes. “Of course,” he scoffed.

“I mean, you did call me Woody last year!” Emile reasoned.

“Sure, but do you honestly think I could pull off a  _ Buzz Lightyear _ costume?!” Remy asked incredulously.

“I almost bought you one last year except I could only afford the cowboy costume comfortably,” Emile said with a shrug. “You don’t have to do it. If you  _ really _ wanted, you could go dressed in drag.”

Remy paused. Emile sighed. “Okay, drag is probably an exaggeration. Fact remains, you don’t have to be Buzz Lightyear if you don’t want to be.”

“No, I like the idea, it’s cute,” Remy said. “I just don’t think I could pull it off.”

Emile hummed. “I see your point,” he conceded. “And truth be told, my cowboy costume might have been torn last time I wore it to the shelter to play with the kids. I was hoping I could repair it, but...maybe it’s just better to try something different.”

Remy nodded, before looking away and staring at something himself. “Oh. My. God. Emile, I just found the perfect costumes!”

“Oh, no,” Emile said, laughing even as dread built in his stomach. “Show me.”

Remy grabbed his wrist and dragged him to where the superhero costumes were. Emile laughed. “Rem, you’re worried about pulling off a  _ Buzz Lightyear _ costume and then immediately go to the spandex section?”

“Shush,” Remy said, pushing around the costumes on the rack, before shoving a blue and red one into Emile’s arms. “This is your size. Where’s mine...”

Emile inspected the costume in his arms and made a noise of recognition as he noticed the large “S” on the front in red. “So you’re suggesting a couple’s costume, then?” he asked.

“What, you didn’t see the homoerotic tension between Batman and Superman?” Remy asked, still flipping through costumes.

“Aw, you’re not going as Lois Lane?” Emile asked.

Remy turned to Emile with a grin as he pulled a Batman costume off the rack. “Don’t tempt me.”

“You’re right, you’re right, I  _ did _ just say drag might not be a good idea,” Emile conceded. “But why  _ Batman? _ I thought you were more of a Marvel fan. Or at least, that you preferred indie comics over big corporations.”

“Okay, well, first of all, I like  _ all _ comics, regardless of size, so jot that down,” Remy said simply. “Second of all, I don’t think I could reasonably go take kids trick-or-treating dressed as Deadpool. The sheer amount of questions I’d get asking why my Spiderman costume looks so funny...”

“Mm, you’re right, that would drive you insane,” Emile agreed. “Batman and Superman it is.”

Remy nodded definitively. “I’m going to insist we take pictures dressed up like this, fair warning,” he said.

“I would expect nothing less, my love,” Emile laughed.

Remy shot Emile a smile. “You’re not even complaining about a dorky couple’s costume. I’m not complaining, but I’m a little surprised.”

“Well, I mean, I think it’s cute,” Emile said. “And I see you get excited over comics sometimes, but definitely not as often as I geek out over cartoons. So seeing you get excited and passionate about the things you love is great to see. I’ll never complain about you showing your geek side.”

Remy laughed. “I mean, it’s a little scary, you know? Being vulnerable about the things you love. It can be intimidating to bare your soul like that. Sometimes I look back at when we first met and I cringe, because I realize how brave you were for admitting you love cartoons and being open about that, and I just...tried to tear you down for it.”

“But we’ve both grown since then, my love,” Emile pointed out, cupping Remy’s cheek as Remy glanced away. When Remy looked back, Emile continued, “You’ve learned not only how to be kind, but how to put yourself out there as well. And I’ve learned how to have a thicker skin, and not let people try to tear me down. I put up with it back then because I didn’t know any better and because I thought you were desperate for company. If someone tried to do that today, and you didn’t shout them down first, I’d explain step-by-step exactly why they shouldn’t do that until they feel like they were scolded by a disappointed dad.”

Remy laughed. “Oh, the disappointed dad talk? I can see you doing that, honestly. You’d be a good dad.”

Emile blinked. “I...what?”

“I mean, you don’t put up with crap when people try to walk all over you, but you’re also kind and offer your compassion freely,” Remy said with a shrug. “Just. I’d love having a dad like that.”

“And this has nothing to do with me donating my sperm and being ‘a catch for any lady at the sperm bank’? You just genuinely think that?”

“Duh?” Remy said. “Honestly, Emile, believe in yourself a little more. You’d be a great authority figure in any sense.”

Emile felt his heart warm and he couldn’t help but grin. “Wow, that means a lot, Rem. I didn’t expect it to, but that means a lot.”

“Yeah, I didn’t expect you to cling to that either, but it’s true,” Remy said. “Should we buy these costumes and head home?”

“Yeah, I’d like to be able to cook with you for dinner tonight, if you’re willing to put up with me,” Emile said.

Remy kissed Emile’s cheek. “It’s never a matter of ‘putting up’ when it comes to you,  _ mio amore.” _

They bought the costumes and headed home, and Emile checked the time when they walked in, finding it to be early evening. “Just in time for dinner,” he said, nodding to the clock.

“It would appear so,” Remy agreed. “Do you want something savory or sweet for dinner tonight?”

“Mm...savory,” Emile decided. “What are you thinking?”

“We have eggs, and some bacon strips left over from our last attempt at cooking them. We could always make a small quiche.”

“Ooh, that sounds amazing!” Emile said, eyes lighting up. It had been forever since he had last had Remy’s quiches, but Remy was a master at making them.

Remy laughed and brought out two pans, one which was oven-safe and the other which they pretty much only used to cook bacon. “You ready to cook?”

Emile hung his costume on one of the table’s chairs and laughed. “You know it!”

They worked around each other without issue, Remy giving Emile instructions on how to cook the bacon as Remy worked on the eggs and everything else he wanted to put in the quiche. “Y’know, Rem, I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of this,” Emile said.

Remy glanced at him. “This being...?”

“Us. Together. Making stuff and just hanging out,” Emile said with a shrug. “I’m really glad we became roommates.”

“That makes two of us,” Remy said with a soft smile. “That piece of bacon has been in the pan for long enough, I think.”

Emile moved the piece Remy was pointing at out of the pan and gave a happy sigh. “Do you ever just take a good long look at something domestic and think, ‘I want to do that with someone one day’?”

“Kind of,” Remy said. “Except usually it’s not ‘one day,’ it’s, ‘I want to do that with Emile soon.’”

Emile turned bright red and he laughed. “Oh, come on! You’re gonna be the death of me at this rate!”

“If I kill you, true love’s kiss will bring you back to life,” Remy said definitively.

“And you’re gonna be my Prince Charming?” Emile asked. “You’d be my true love’s kiss?”

“Always,” Remy said with a little grin. “For as long as you want me to be, I will  _ always _ be your Prince Charming.”

Emile grinned. “I’m super glad you say that,” he said. “It’s good to know that you’re just as much in this for the long-haul as me. I wouldn’t necessarily say more so, simply because I don’t intend on ever leaving you, but if I don’t intend on leaving you and you don’t intend on leaving me, we’re definitely at the same level.”

“Don’t be so sure about that. I will bug you in Purgatory and beyond,” Remy warned with a smirk. “I will bug you for all eternity if you don’t stop me.”

“Good,” Emile said with a grin. “And I will never stop you.”

Remy grinned and kissed Emile, and Emile giggled. “Careful, we’re by a hot stove!” he warned.

“Care to move elsewhere, then?” Remy asked with a wink.

“Let’s get dinner in the oven first,” Emile said with a little giggle.

Remy groaned and Emile laughed more. “Come on, Remy. We can get dinner in the oven in a matter of minutes and then we can have all the fun we want until the quiche is cooked!”

“Sure, but I want the fun now!” Remy whined.

Emile shook his head fondly as he moved all the bacon to the plate and turned off the stovetop. “You are such a hedonist,” Emile said.

“And, what, that’s a bad thing?” Remy asked.

“No. Just exasperating at times,” Emile replied. “You’re  _ my _ hedonist, though. I’m not giving you up.”

Remy grinned and peppered Emile’s face with kisses and Emile laughed. “Remy! We have to get dinner in the oven first! I just told you that!”

“I know, but that doesn’t mean I can’t kiss you just a little,” Remy said in between kisses.

“This is not ‘just a little,’” Emile laughed, chopping up the bacon and putting it with the rest of the ingredients in the quiche. “Come on. Finish what you need to. Then we can have whatever fun you want.”

“Ooh, whatever I want?” Remy asked, eyes lighting up.

“Within reason!” Emile said, holding a finger up in a warning. “I am not letting you tie me to the bed!”

“Aw, and here I was hoping we’d get to have some  _ fun _ tonight!” Remy said with an exaggerated pout and a laugh.

Emile shook his head, kissing Remy’s cheek and nuzzling into his neck. “How about this: you finish up getting the quiche in the oven, and I’ll meet you in the bedroom?”

“Mm, sounds perfect,” Remy said, kissing Emile back. “And I hope you know that one of these days? We’re going to break the bed.”

“I look forward to it,” Emile said with a laugh.


	75. Chapter 75

####  **November 22nd, 2000**

“Toby!” Remy exclaimed, running to his brother and hugging him tight. “Oh, God, Toby, am I relieved to see you!”

“Hey, Rem!” Toby exclaimed, turning from where he had been talking to Vanessa to hug Remy. “It’s so good to see you! How’s college been?”

Remy’s stomach churned and he groaned. “Oh, God, I don’t want to talk about it,” he complained.

“Fair enough,” Toby laughed. “I feel the same way after midterms. Have you made any friends, at least?”

“I mean, I guess...” Remy said. “Although  _ he _ made me  _ his _ friend more than  _ I _ made him  _ my _ friend.”

“Still! A friend! That’s progress!” Toby said excitedly. “What’s his name?”

“His name’s Emile, and he’s—”

Remy was cut off as his mother called them all to the dinner table. “You can explain about him more after dinner,” Toby promised. “I’ll love to hear all about him.”

####  **November 22nd, 2002**

“Oh, my God, Emile, hon,  _ breathe,” _ Remy said with a little laugh, placing his hands on Emile’s shoulders and gently shaking him.

Emile was not, in fact, breathing like Remy requested. Emile was  _ bawling _ on the couch having just watched the finale of  _ Courage the Cowardly Dog. _ “I-I-I don’t want it to be over!” Emile wailed.

“Want it or not, it’s over, hon, you’re gonna pass out at this rate. Please. Breathe,” Remy requested.

Emile took in one deep breath, then another, and Remy gave him an encouraging smile. “Good. That’s good, hon.”

“I feel dizzy,” Emile breathed.

“Yeah, well, you hyperventilated for a good fifteen minutes, I’m not surprised. Should I get you some water?” Remy asked.

“Please?” Emile asked softly.

Remy kissed Emile’s temple and went to the kitchen, grabbing him a glass of water. He walked back over and Emile took the water with a small “Thank you,” taking small sips as his hands ever-so-slightly shook.

“Are you like this when  _ any _ cartoon you like ends? Because if so, then I might need to get you a designated sobbing corner in our apartment,” Remy teased.

“No, I’m not like this every time,” Emile huffed. “I’m just like this with the ones that mean a lot to me.”

“So, all of them,” Remy filled in.

Emile stuck his tongue out at Remy but Remy just grinned shamelessly. “Listen, I don’t freak out over every last cartoon I’ve ever seen,” Emile said.

“Oh, I’m sure,” Remy said. “You have your calm moments, totally.”

“Remy!” Emile laughed. “I’m trying to be serious.”

“I’m trying to be realistic while also being lighthearted,” Remy said with a shrug. “You get really obsessed with all things cartoons, Emile. I would  _ not _ be surprised if this happens again.”

Emile pouted, but Remy counted that as better than a scowl, and therefore a win. “I’m not a child, Rem,” Emile said.

“Of course you’re not a child,” Remy said, blinking. “You’re my boyfriend, and a wonderful man, and a massive geek, but you’re not a child.”

Emile was continuing to pout and Remy sat down next to him on the couch. “Is this post-cartoon withdrawal or is this a serious self-esteem issue about you being seen as a child?”

“Probably a mix of both,” Emile said reluctantly. “I just...everyone likes to joke about me getting obsessed with cartoons, and just being...like a giant puppy, or something. And yeah, most of the time that doesn’t bother me, but is that all people see me as? Do they only see me as an overgrown child who just needs to...grow up?”

“I can tell you right now that’s not the case, Emile,” Remy said with absolute certainty. “I mean, sure, cartoons are generally made for children. But liking them doesn’t make you a child. You’ve seen what happens in the adult world, and you’re training to become a therapist to help people with the real world being far, far too much for them to handle. You know exactly how depraved the real world can be. And you use cartoons to remember that good can triumph over evil, that at the end of the day, friendship and family make everything better, and that even in our darkest moments, there’s hope. You don’t simply use them as an escape from the real world, you use them to look at the real world in a different, more positive light. And that’s...honestly, that’s one of the most mature things I can think of. Proving to the world that you won’t be beaten down, that you’ll keep looking for the good in everything. You’re not a child. Sometimes, you like childish things, but liking childish things doesn’t make you a child. I should know. I’m a grown adult who lives vicariously through comic books.”

Emile laughed. “I guess you’re right,” he conceded. “It’s just...hard to remember sometimes. And I know my family always means the teasing about me loving cartoons in good fun, but after a while...it wears on me, and then something happens, like one of my favorite cartoons being cancelled, and I cry over it, and I ask myself, am I really that child that everyone says I am?”

“No, hon, you’re not a child,” Remy said. “Think about it this way: everything my mom says is wrong, and my mom called you a child and ‘stuck in the past.’ Still feel like that has any basis in truth?”

Emile blinked. “...No,” he admitted. “But I really don’t think I can use your mother as the basis for making me feel better most of the time. Usually, she just makes me mad.”

“That’s fair, she drives me up the wall too,” Remy said with a grin.

Emile laughed, only slightly hysterically. “You know, we’re having Thanksgiving here this year,” he said.

“Yeah?” Remy asked. “With your parents. What’s your point?”

“What if your mother comes back?” Emile asked. “Are you ready for that?”

Remy shrugged. “If she comes back I’ll refer to your mom as my mom until she gets the message to leave, and we don’t let her through the door for literally anything,” he said. “Like, my mom scares me, but your parents have gotten her to back down without too much trouble before. If worst comes to worst I can hide behind your dad.”

Emile laughed. “That doesn’t sound like a very solid plan, Rem,” he said.

“Well, I mean...I don’t have a solid plan. I’m not, like, getting nightmares over Thanksgiving but I am admittedly anxious enough that I don’t like thinking about it if I can help it,” Remy admitted. “I’m not really ready to go head-to-head with her. Your parents can act as a buffer, at least a little bit, and I know you won’t put up with her hanging around the apartment, but like...I’m still nervous.”

“That’s understandable,” Emile said with a nod. “Are you ready for Thanksgiving otherwise? I mean, my parents agreed to get the turkey, but do we need to go grocery shopping?”

Remy blinked. “I completely forgot! That’s what I was going to do before I found you sobbing your eyes out on the couch. Emile! We need to go grocery shopping.”

Emile laughed and nodded. “All right, good to know. Should we head out now?”

“Um. Yeah. We have six days, so everything we need  _ should _ be there and not bought out, with the benefit of it not going bad before Thanksgiving.”

“Then we’d better head out,” Emile said, finishing his water and standing up. “We don’t want to miss out on the cranberry sauce because I was bawling my eyes out about Courage.”

Remy laughed, but his mind was whirring as he grabbed his coat and shoes. His mother  _ was _ probably going to show up on or around Thanksgiving again, to try and take him back to her house. And much as he would like to see Toby again, he didn’t have his own car that he could use to drive away once he got contact info, so he had no chance of leaving if he went with his mother. And not coming back home, never seeing Emile again, that wasn’t an option. In fact, if Toby found out Remy had left the love of his life just to see Toby again, he would probably be calling Remy bone-dead stupid for the rest of time.

Emile brushed his hand against Remy’s as they left the apartment complex and headed to the grocery store. “What are you thinking about?” he asked.

“Toby,” Remy admitted. “I just...miss him and wish I could see him again. Not enough to go with my mother anywhere, of course, but I still miss him.”

“We’ll find him,” Emile promised Remy. “Dice said he had a couple leads last time we met, remember? It’s not much, and it will probably take some months to get everything figured out and find out which lead is going to lead us to him, but we’ll find him. We’re closer than ever before.”

“Yeah,” Remy said, but he wasn’t feeling as confident as Emile sounded.

“Remy,” Emile said. “We  _ will _ find him. I know you’d love to see him by Christmas, or your birthday, or someday soon, and it bums you out that isn’t possible. But one day, we’re going to find him, and he’s going to give you a big hug, and you’re going to give him one back, and you two will keep close. Like, I can’t see a time where he  _ isn’t _ a phone call away, once we find him. Even if the two of you didn’t talk for months, I have no doubt you could just pick up the phone and chat again like the two of you had never stopped talking in the first place. Just from what you’ve told me of him, he wouldn’t throw away his second chance. He would hold it as close as he could, and he would never,  _ ever _ let go.”

Remy nodded with a sad smile. “That does sound like him,” he sighed. “I just...I don’t know. I wish he could be here for the big things, and the little things. Like, Christmas is going to be a pain, just because I’m going to think about him no matter what with all the emphasis on family and friendship and camaraderie and staying together no matter what. Like, I’d kill to just have the  _ option _ of calling him, even if I didn’t actually do that. And it feels like Toby is just...a huge focus on our conversations nowadays, and I don’t mean for that to happen, but it just kinda...does.”

“Well, the holidays are coming up, which means you miss him more. That’s normal, Rem,” Emile said, placing a hand on Remy’s shoulder. They walked into the grocery store, and Emile grabbed a basket. “We’ll talk about him as much as you need to, and when the hurt ebbs away a little bit, like it usually does after the holidays, we’ll have room to talk about other things.”

“Like what?” Remy asked. “What do we normally talk about when I’m not obsessed with Toby?”

“Normal life stuff. Work, school, friends. Whatever crazy project you want to try whenever you have the time. Whatever small thing has gotten into my hair and refuses to let me go free until you help me work through the knots.”

It felt like Emile was trying to hold something back from him, though. “What aren’t you telling me, Emile?” Remy asked, his eyes squinted.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Emile lied.

“Emile,” Remy insisted.

“Remy, trust me when I say it’ll be much better as a surprise, okay?” Emile said. “I’m working on something for your birthday, and it’s taking a while so I started early, but I’m getting everything set up, slowly but surely. And it’ll be ready in time for your birthday, and you’re probably going to be chattering about it non-stop when it comes to pass. But right now, it’s not ready, and I want to surprise you. So can we talk about something else?”

Remy groaned. “Oh, you’re no fun, Emile. Fine. What boring thing do you want to talk about that doesn’t involve my birthday?”

Emile looked around the store. “Where do we go first? What ingredients do we need for Thanksgiving dinner?”

Remy hummed and said, “Well, we need the cranberry sauce, and stuffing, and ice cream. I talked to your dad, and he’s bringing a pie over—”

“—Because of course he is,” Emile finished.

“—So we don’t have to worry about that,” Remy said. “I think we should pick some rolls up, or at least some dough and bake the rolls ourselves, just because that’s always a nice add-on, and then we need to figure out the gravy.”

Emile nodded. “Sounds good,” he agreed.

Remy started pulling Emile around in the search, but in the back of his mind the gears were still whirring like crazy. What exactly did Emile have planned for his birthday? What would take so long that he’d have to start in November?

And would it ruin Remy’s plans to go out and buy a ring for Emile?


	76. Chapter 76

####  **November 5th, 2002**

“Emile!” Remy exclaimed, shoving Emile to the side and turning the oven off. “What did you do?!”

“I tried to help melt the cranberry sauce!” Emile defended. “It was doing just fine!”

“Really?” Remy asked. He turned the pan upside down slowly, and not one drop of cranberry sauce left the pan. “It’s completely congealed, Emile!”

“So sue me!” Emile said. “I was trying to help!”

“You. Are never allowed near my cranberry sauce again, you hear?” Remy said. “Never.”

Emile huffed and Remy just stared him down. Emile threw his hands in the air. “Fine, whatever.”

Remy shook his head. “Now we won’t have any cranberry sauce to go with the turkey I was making. And this practice Thanksgiving dinner was going so well,” he lamented.

####  **November 28th, 2002**

The knocking started at eleven in the morning, when Emile was talking with his parents in the kitchen and Remy was reading a book on the couch. Emile glanced to Remy, and Remy glanced back. Both of them were wondering if the knocker was who they thought it was.

When it happened again, harder and rougher, that seemed to be answer enough for Remy, who shrank into the couch. Emile held up a hand to keep Remy where he was, and peered through the peephole. Sure enough, Remy’s mom was on the other side. He opened the door with an irritated scowl. “Go away,” he said simply. “You’re not wanted here.”

“What took you so long to answer?” she snapped.

“I was having sex with my boyfriend,” Emile deadpanned. “It’s Thanksgiving, and my parents are over. I  _ was _ intending to share some time with them on this holiday, along with my boyfriend. If you’re looking for Remy, he’s not going to be talking to you.”

Remy’s mother sneered at him and he just stood there, decidedly unimpressed. “Yes, Misses Picani, we  _ all _ know you’re of the opinion I’m going to Hell for being bisexual. Can we move on and can you get lost before I call the cops?”

“I know Remy is here!” she snarled. “I demand to speak to him!”

“I’ll have to ask my boyfriend if that’s okay,” Emile said. “He doesn’t like yelling and sometimes the neighbors will complain.”

“Oh, move!” Remy’s mother snarled, shoving her way past Emile and into the apartment.

“Please, come in,” Emile muttered darkly under his breath, closing the door.

Remy’s mother stood at the edge of the couch, her arms crossed. “Remington, come with me,” she snarled.

Remy, for his part, was not looking up from the awkward position he had contorted himself into to read his book. “Hey, Mom, can I get you anything to drink?”

“Remington, you are coming with me,  _ now!” _ his mother snapped.

Remy looked up, craned his neck to look past his mother, to where Emile’s mom was. “Mom? You didn’t answer my question.”

Emile  _ howled _ with shocked laughter as Remy’s mother went red in the face and Emile’s mom was trying to hold back snickers. “No, thank you dear, I’m fine.”

“Okay,” Remy said, returning to his book.

“Remington!” Remy’s mother snapped. “You are coming home with me, now!”

“I’m already home,” Remy said. And judging by the look in Remy’s eyes, he was dangerously close to dissociating, and Emile knew it.

“I already said you’re not welcome. Leave,” Emile said to Remy’s mother.

“Remington Samuel Picani, you will come with me  _ right now _ if you  _ ever _ want to see anyone from this family again!” Remy’s mother hissed. “That includes Tobias!”

Emile felt his patience snap as he watched Remy’s white-knuckled grip on his book tighten. “I told you, Misses Picani, you’re not welcome here! Get out! Now!” Emile snapped. “I truly hoped that you were above blackmail to get what you wanted, but clearly I was wrong! And since you can’t seem to understand it, I’ll spell this out for you: using contact with one of your children on another one of your children is despicable and disgusting! I know you know that Remy cares for Toby! Why can’t you just be kind and give Remy the number to his brother’s cell and then leave our lives for good?! I don’t understand why you’re so insistent on having ‘your’ son back when you don’t even know him well enough to identify him in a crowd of people!”

Remy’s mother turned to Emile with a snarl. “You should keep your nose out of situations where it doesn’t belong!” she growled.

“I’ll stop when  _ you _ leave  _ us _ alone and let us have our peace,” Emile said.

Remy’s mother stalked over to Emile and raised her hand, but instead of flinching away like she must have been used to, Emile grabbed her hand in a vice so tight his own fist was shaking, and she cried out in pain. Emile dragged her to the front door and shoved her into the hallway. “I said you’re not welcome. If you don’t leave now, I  _ will _ be calling the cops.”

He slammed the door in her face and locked it, leaning against it with his back as he closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. When he opened his eyes, he immediately went over to Remy, who was staring at his book, but instead of actually reading the pages, his eyes were still and glassy. “You okay, Rem?” he asked.

“No,” Remy whispered, his entire body trembling. “I miss—I miss Toby. I want—I want my big brother. I want him back, Emile.”

“I know you do,” Emile said, hugging Remy fiercely.

Remy took a big breath and shuddered, sobbing into Emile’s shoulder, repeating, “I want him back” over and over again. Emile just squeezed Remy gently and played with his hair, murmuring “I know you do” every once in a while.

After a time, the frantic murmuring slowed to a stop and Emile gently let Remy down onto the couch where he slept, getting the book from Remy’s lax grip and saving his place. He turned to his parents, mouth open to say something, before he admitted, “I don’t...exactly know what to say about what just happened.”

“Tell us you’re trying to find his brother or else I’ll be tracking his mother down and getting the number myself,” his father said. “And there may or may not be a murder involved.”

“Oh, yeah, I hired a private investigator to track him down. He’s got several leads he’s trying to chase recently, and he said that some of them may take considerable time, but he knows that one of them will lead to Toby,” Emile said. “Unfortunately, I think the lead that will lead to him will take the longest. He has contacts in the court systems, so he can figure out if there’s any restraining orders involved, but those contacts usually take the longest to get back to him, and usually they can’t be specific without risking their jobs, so it might be a while.”

“Good, that means we don’t have to murder anyone quite yet. But if I see that woman again before Remy’s brother is found, I  _ will _ be stealing her phone and getting the number myself.”

“I’ll help,” his mom added. “Remy clearly needs his brother in his life, or else years of therapy, and I think having his brother near would be considerably cheaper and ultimately take less tissues.”

Emile laughed softly. “I don’t know about less tissues, but I’ll take your word on that for now.”

When Emile stood, his parents shared a look. “You don’t look very good yourself, Emile,” his mom said. “Do you need to lie down, too?”

Emile shook his head. “No, I’d feel better having something to do, or something to distract myself. If I lied down, all I’d be able to focus on is the sound of Remy crying...and I can’t handle that. Not today.”

His mother nodded reluctantly and his father said, “Well, do you have anything here to distract yourself?”

“My psychology textbook?” he asked, shrugging. “We don’t have much by way of distractions, unfortunately. All our money goes to rent or food...or, in my case, rent, food, and my project for Remy’s birthday.”

His mother’s eyes lit up. “Do you have everything up to code?” she asked.

“Almost,” Emile agreed. “That should be set by mid-December. I’ve ordered most of the furniture, getting it into the shop and using local hires where I can. It’s a little slow going, but once everything is done and it’s registered to be a shop, I can hand it over to Remy, and he can do the rest. And it  _ will _ be done by the end of December. I’m making sure of it.”

His parents shared quiet excitement with him. “If this doesn’t say you’re staying with Remy for the long haul I don’t know what does,” his father said. “I mean, getting married is wonderful, but not an option. Buying a shop is a little more pricey, but should get the message across just as well.”

Emile smiled hopefully and nodded. “Yeah. Remy and I have talked and we agree that neither of us want to leave the other for anything, so I figured it’s a safe investment. And Remy really knows what he’s doing with business. It might not make us super rich, just one coffee shop, but it should be enough for us to live comfortably, and that’s more than enough for me.”

“If you ever need help with any legal issues, feel free to call, all right?” his father said. “I might not be able to help myself, but I definitely know some guys who would. And what’s more, those guys owe me favors, most of them.”

Emile snickered, before looking over to Remy, whose tear-stained cheeks were currently shoved into the couch cushions. “I admittedly don’t want to start cooking without Remy. He’d be so offended when he woke up, if not outright horrified. But I think he needs to sleep just a little longer, just to make sure that he’s all right.”

“Agreed,” his father said.

“Is there anything you might want to do while we wait for him to wake up?” his mother asked. “Even if it’s not food related?”

Emile shrugged. “I don’t know. We  _ were _ going to ask if you wanted to go down to the shelter we volunteer at for lunch, but I really don’t think Remy would be up for that right now...”

“You’re right, it’s better to let him rest,” his mother said. “I brought a jigsaw puzzle in my suitcase, on the off-chance you might want to play with something while we cooked the turkey.”

“Feel free to bring it out,” Emile said. “It’s not as if we’re going anywhere.”

His mother smiled and went to the guest room, returning with the jigsaw puzzle. They set it up on the table and promptly the three of them started bickering about which pieces to start the puzzle with. They went through all two hundred pieces, sorting them by color, edges versus non-edge pieces, and even size, before Remy stirred on the couch.

Emile focused on Remy while his parents continued to bicker, and Remy blinked awake, rubbing his head. “Mmph,” he grumbled.

“You feel okay, Rem?” Emile asked.

“Tired,” Remy said, sitting up and stretching. “Did we miss lunch at the shelter?”

Emile checked the clock and said, “Yep.”

“Aw, man, I was hoping we could have gone. I wanted to see the kids try and turn you into a human sacrifice again,” Remy mumbled.

Emile’s mom laughed incredulously. “They did what?” she asked.

“Emile can’t say no to children effectively enough to stop them from hog-tying him,” Remy said matter-of-factly. “And then they run wild and it looks like they’re performing a human sacrifice. It’s good fun while I work in the kitchen and help prepare the meals.”

“I’ll bet,” Emile’s father said with an amused glance at him. “Should we start making dinner for ourselves, though?”

“Hm? Oh,” Remy said. “Yeah, that’s kind of important.”

“Only kind of,” Emile teased.

Remy stuck his tongue out at Emile and Emile laughed. “How are you emotionally?” Emile asked.

“I’ll live,” Remy sighed. “I know that’s not the most encouraging thing, but it’s about all I can manage right now. I hope that’s all right.”

“Whatever you can manage is just fine, my love,” Emile said. “I’m not surprised that your mental health took a hit. Good thing that we’re gonna move, right?”

“Yeah, good thing that we have those plans,” Remy said. “I don’t know when we can put them in  _ place, _ but at least we have them. It’s hope.”

“And hope is very important,” Emile agreed. “Now, do you want to work on the cranberry sauce or the stuffing first?”

“I’ll work on the cranberry sauce. If you even  _ look _ at the cranberry sauce before it’s done I’ll kill you myself. I am  _ not _ letting you touch it after last time.”

“Oh, come on! It was one time that I turned the heat too high!” Emile protested.

“One time too many,” Remy said definitively. “You can work on the stuffing.  _ I’ll _ be doing the cranberry sauce.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have the chapter a day early just because. Hope you liked it!


	77. Chapter 77

####  **December 21st, 1999**

“Listen, Toby, this is just facts,” Remy said. “Every family has a gay cousin. If you don’t have a gay relative, you  _ are _ the gay relative. Those are the rules.”

Toby shook his head. “I mean, I don’t doubt you Rem, but  _ every _ family seems like a bit much.”

“Take it from me, dude, every gay person I’ve been able to sniff out has been able to testify to this. They are known solely as ‘the gay one’ in their family,” Remy said sagely. “And I’m the gay cousin.”

“Not that we can tell anyone that,” Toby sighed.

Remy groaned. “I know. One day, I’ll tell everyone, though. Screw the consequences.”

“Yeah?” Toby asked.

“Yeah,” Remy said. “And, knowing me, that’s the day I send out the wedding invitations.”

Toby snickered.

####  **December 24th, 2002**

It was weird how close Remy and Emile had grown. Normally, Remy wouldn’t find it weird, but today was not normal. He wouldn’t have suspected anything was wrong with Emile even a year and a half ago, but Remy could tell by the way Emile was hunched in on himself on the couch, and the way he was almost imperceptibly trembling, that Emile was about to cry. Remy had no idea what he was supposed to do with that information, though. He  _ knew _ it, but he didn’t know how to  _ help. _ “Emile, do you need anything?”

No response. Remy was really worried. He knew that what he had felt with the past couple years about Toby had just gotten worse around the holidays, but it must be tiny compared to the hurt Emile was feeling. He had lost everyone in his family except for his mom and dad, all because of his grandfather.

“Is there anything you might  _ want?” _ Remy asked. “I know that I can’t go out to the store, because it’s Christmas Eve, but...”

The trembling picked up. Remy winced. That was not the right thing to say. “Emile, please, you’re starting to scare me. Are you okay?”

Emile still didn’t say anything. Remy bit his lip. It might be time for the big guns. He went to their room and brought out Bones, walking over to Emile and gently placing Bones on Emile’s lap. That, at least, got Emile to stop staring at a spot on the floor. He looked down at his lap, then up at Remy. “You can hug him, if you want, just be gentle,” Remy said.

“You...never let me hold Bones,” Emile said, his voice raspy.

“Extenuating circumstances,” Remy simply said.

Emile gently picked Bones up and wrapped his arms around Bones’ small body. “I don’t even really miss my grandfather, is the thing, you know?” Emile murmured. “Like, of course I miss him, and it hurts, but I miss my cousins more. I miss my aunts and uncles, the ones who didn’t mind that I was bisexual. I wanted to be a good example for my little cousins, to show them that it was okay to not be straight.”

Remy nodded. “That’s a noble thing. You’re so much older than they are, you’re automatically a role model for them, almost. And it’s good that you didn’t take that lightly. I’m the gay cousin, too, but I’m the youngest, so I don’t really have that sort of power.”

Emile snorted, and Remy cracked a smile, sitting down next to Emile on the couch. “Why is this so hard?” he asked. “Why does it have to hurt so much?”

“Because you care about them,” Remy said. “It would be so much easier to get over if you didn’t care about them, but you do. And it’s good that you care about your family. But you need to take care of yourself, first, which means not contorting yourself into whatever they want from you just to see them.”

Emile took a shaky breath. “I got a letter from Bailey, yesterday,” he said with a little laugh. “It was him saying that he hoped that I could come to Christmas Mass, even if Grandpa didn’t let me in the house. And that if I didn’t go to Christmas Mass, he understood and hoped I had a good Christmas anyway.”

“Bailey has sent you letters before, right?” Remy asked.

“Once or twice, yeah,” Emile agreed. “He always ends the letters with something along the lines of ‘don’t forget to hug Remy because I know it makes you feel better.’ He’s a good kid.”

Remy offered Emile a smile. “He sounds like a good kid,” he agreed. “And his parents must be pretty cool, if they’re okay with him writing you.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Emile said. “I never got the feeling that they were accepting, but then again, I never really tested the waters with them, so I guess that’s my own fault.”

Remy leaned against Emile and Emile sighed. “I wish my parents could be here. Like, not  _ that _ much, or I would have asked them, but I know it’s hard for them to have my grandfather act that way, and invite them over for Christmas but not invite  _ me, _ you know? It’s a bit awkward.”

“I honestly don’t want to try and imagine that,” Remy said. “I’m fine with virtually everyone in my family hating my guts, thanks.”

Emile laughed and shook his head. “We’re so messed up,” he laughed.

“Tell me about it,” Remy said.

Emile’s smile faded and he sighed. “I know how you felt that first Christmas when I went to my family’s now. And I have to say that I’m not a fan.”

“Yeah, it’s not fun,” Remy said. “Are you going to be okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” Emile said, leaning back into the couch and groaning. He passed Bones back to Remy and Remy gratefully took him. “I’m just going to be sulking the rest of today and probably tomorrow.”

Remy considered. “Is there a motel by where your family’s church is?”

“Probably, why?” Emile asked.

“Well, we could stay the night and head to early morning Mass so you can say hi to Bailey,” Remy offered.

“What?” Emile asked. “You’d...you’d do that for me?”

“I mean, yeah,” Remy said. “I have a little bit of cash to spare because we’ve been scrimping and saving for whenever I can afford my own shop. And I didn’t know what I would get you for Christmas but this seems like as good a gift as any...”

“But what about my grandfather?” Emile asked.

“What’s he gonna do?” Remy asked with a scoff. “You’re going to Mass. He can’t exactly kick you out of the church.”

Slowly, Emile started to grin. “This is insane,” he said.

“Well, yeah, but judging by your grin it’s the good kind of insane,” Remy said, smiling back.

“Definitely the good kind,” Emile said. “Do you have any clothes that might be considered Mass-appropriate?”

“I have one singular suit,” Remy said.

“That’ll do!” Emile exclaimed, jumping to his feet. “Let’s find a motel in the area and stick it to my grandfather!”

Remy laughed. “All right!” he exclaimed. “And it would just be for one night, I’m warning you now. We wouldn’t be able to stay for the entirety of the week until New Year’s.”

“Oh, that’s okay, I need us back here by your birthday anyway, for your surprise,” Emile said with a wicked grin.

“Yeah, you still haven’t told me what that surprise is!” Remy exclaimed.

“And I won’t! Not until your birthday!” Emile said, grinning wider.

“That’s not fair, Emile!” Remy protested.

“It’s plenty fair!” Emile exclaimed. “You just don’t like not knowing!”

“Exactly!” Remy said.

Emile put his hands on Remy’s shoulders when Remy clambored to his feet, and said, “Remy, trust me. You’re going to love this surprise. You also don’t want it spoiled.”

Remy groaned. “Come on, Emile! Just one hint!”

“Never!” Emile exclaimed. “Suck it up, lover boy, you’re gonna have to wait!”

“I regret suggesting sticking it to your grandfather now,” Remy sulked. “I’m happy you’re chipper, but seriously. Making something for me for  _ months _ and then not showing me? Not fair!”

“It’s completely fair, Rem,” Emile said, grinning. “That’s the way surprises work! And you don’t have many days left to wait!”

“I’ll call Clara,” Remy threatened.

“No you won’t,” Emile scoffed. “And even if you did, she wouldn’t tell you.”

“I’ll call Theo!” Remy exclaimed.

“Theo wouldn’t tell you either, as if he actually knows,” Emile snorted.

“So you told Clara but not Theo? That’s very telling...” Remy said, mind sorting through options that might fit that combination of spilled beans.

“Hey, no, don’t psychoanalyze my choices, that’ll get you nowhere,” Emile informed Remy. “Besides, I could be lying about who I told.”

Remy stared at Emile for a long second before he whined, “Why would you do  _ that?!” _

“So that I can keep the surprise a surprise for longer!” Emile responded simply.

“Emile!” Remy whined. “Come on! That’s no fair!”

“Rem, we can argue about this all day, or we can drive out to my family’s church, go to Mass and kiss just to make my grandfather mad. Are you in or am I driving out there alone?” Emile asked.

“I  _ will _ complain about the unfairness of this surprise the entire time we’re driving,” Remy informed Emile. “I’ll grab my suit.”

Emile was laughing as Remy grabbed his suit, and Remy rolled his eyes. He loved his boyfriend, make no mistake, but there were times where he would still love to strangle Emile. He wasn’t entirely sure if this was one of those times, but the sentiment, at the very least, definitely applied.

He grabbed his suit and Emile came in, grabbing his own. “We’re going to look fabulous at Mass,” Emile said.

“You know it!” Remy said with a wink.

Emile grinned. “I can say hi to my parents, too, actually, come to think of it. And so can you.”

“Neither of us are gonna be alone on Christmas!” Remy exclaimed. “That’s what I call a victory!”

“Yes!” Emile exclaimed.

They grabbed clothes that weren’t their suits for the drive back after the Mass and they both got in Emile’s car, and headed out. “Thanks for being willing to cheer me up,” Emile said.

“Oh, yeah, of course!” Remy exclaimed. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, Emile.”

“Nothing?” Emile asked incredulously. “You really mean that?”

Remy considered. “I mean, yeah,” he said with a shrug. “Like, I’d go so far as to say that if you told me Toby was toxic and I needed to cut him out, I’d do it. Of course, you wouldn’t say that without really good evidence, so I don’t have to worry about you manipulating me for whatever reason and I’d see your point, but like...I’d be hard-pressed to find something that I wouldn’t do for you just to make sure you were happy.”

“Wow,” Emile said, taking a long glance at Remy before returning his eyes to the road. “I...didn’t realize that you had that much faith in me.”

Remy laughed. “I mean, I didn’t realize it either, until you asked. But I trust you, Emile. I have no reason not to, and many more reasons to take your advice. Why in the world wouldn’t I do anything I could to return the favor and make sure your mental health is good?”

“Because you need to take time for yourself?” Emile asked.

“I already take time for myself,” Remy replied. “And when I’m done with that I go back to bugging  _ you _ to take care of  _ yourself. _ It’s a balance, and one that I think I’ve gotten really good at.”

“One that you  _ definitely _ have gotten good at, because you’ve succeeded in getting me to take breaks, which is something that even my best friends in high school were unable to do,” Emile said.

“Well, yeah, but that’s high school!” Remy exclaimed. “You’re supposed to be stubborn and pig-headed then. That’s supposed to go away by the end of college, though.”

“I would argue that you’ve made sure it’s going away by force,” Emile laughed. “Although I will admit freely that having your permission to fail is a weight off my chest.”

Remy’s heart warmed. “I’m glad. That’s what it was meant to be, after all.”

Emile grew strangely quiet, before he asked in a small, hopeful voice, “Do I have permission to fail when it comes to getting my grandfather to come around?”

“If you want to work on him coming around, honey, you can do that. And if you do, yes, you’re allowed to fail at that. I don’t think that your grandfather would end up in Hell purely for being a homophobe, anyway, but if he never comes around, that is not your fault, nor is it your responsibility to get him to come around in the first place, understand?”

Emile nodded, visibly relaxing. “Got it. Now, let’s go be gay at church.”


	78. Chapter 78

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience while waiting for this update, y'all, I've been in and out of the hospital recently and I've had to put myself first before my work. The update schedule is cancelled for now, as I try and get everything back together, but I hope you enjoy this chapter regardless!

####  **December 17th, 2002**

Emile grinned when he read the letter. The city had just gotten back to him after they had inspected the shop, and everything was up to code! He had done it! He had gotten the furniture, the electricity, the plumbing, he had gotten everything done and now it was clean and up to code, completely on the up-and-up, and Remy  _ still _ didn’t know that the shop existed!

Clutching the letter close to his chest, Emile squealed, and bounced up and down. He was incredibly glad that Remy wasn’t home right now, or else the game might have been up. But he was done! Now all he had to do was wait for Remy’s birthday, and as soon as it was there, he could hand over the property!

####  **December 31st, 2002**

Emile held his hands over Remy’s eyes, guiding him down Main Street. Emile was laughing all the while, and Remy had no clue what he was doing, making this moment all the sweeter. “Where exactly are we going?” Remy asked.

“I told you, Rem, it’s a surprise!” Emile chirped. “But I guarantee you’re gonna love it!”

Remy grumbled, “Whatever you say,” and they kept walking. “I can’t believe that after all this time, after your apparent months of planning and scheming and getting everything ready, you  _ still  _ have to cover my eyes while we’re in the final stretch of this. What, are you worried that I’ll figure it out and ruin the surprise before we get there?”

“Not really,” Emile said. “I just like the suspense of it all.”

Remy snorted. “You’re a complete and total nerd, I hope you realize that.”

“I’m fully aware,” Emile placated, unable to stop smiling. When Remy figured out what exactly was going on, he was going to flip out in the best way, and Emile would be watching every moment, every movement. With all his planning he had an idea about how Remy would react, but at the end of the day he technically still didn’t know, and he would be cataloguing everything in his memory. He didn’t want to forget a second of this day.

When Emile finally turned Remy to a stop, Remy was feeling the asphalt beneath them and frowning. “A parking lot?” he asked.

“Not just any parking lot, though,” Emile said. He took his hands off Remy’s eyes and Remy blinked in the sudden light, frowning.

“...That old abandoned building on Main Street? That’s my birthday surprise?” Remy asked.

“It’s not abandoned,” Emile said, holding up a key proudly.

Remy stared at him in befuddlement, before a lightbulb went off and his eyes widened. Emile didn’t think that Remy had figured out the full magnitude of the key, yet, and sure enough, when Remy spoke, he didn’t quite have the full picture. “You didn’t. You found the owner and got the key off them for something inside, didn’t you?”

Emile bounced in place. “Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t,” Emile sang. He dropped the keys into Remy’s palm. “Want to see inside?”

Remy took the keys with a small eye-roll and walked across the parking lot, Emile bouncing right behind him. They got to the front door and Remy slid the key into the lock. He was surprised. “I didn’t think this was the actual key,” he breathed.

Emile ushered him inside, feeling somewhat impatient with the surprise right in front of them, yet just barely out of reach. “Come on, now that you know it’s the real key, why don’t you check out your surprise?”

Remy walked inside and gaped, and Emile was smiling, proud of himself. There were tables with chairs stacked on top of them, and a counter off to the side on the left. It looked for all the world like... “It’s a coffee shop,” Remy said, looking around. “That would be where I’d display pastries, and the blackboard behind it could show what the price for everything is,” Remy said, pointing. “I don’t understand. Something in here is the surprise?”

“Well, sorta,” Emile said.

Remy shook his head, looking around. “It looks perfect for a coffee shop or a restaurant, but...honey, I don’t understand what the surprise is. You...you just got the keys off the realtor?”

“Well, yeah,” Emile said.

“You might want to give them back to their rightful owner, then,” Remy said, tossing them over to Emile. “Because...I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but I really don’t understand what’s going on.”

Emile grinned. “You really want me to return these to their rightful owner?” he asked.

Remy scratched the back of his neck. “Emile, I’m really tired of this game,” Remy sighed.

“Okay, okay, I’ll give the keys back to the owner of the building,” Emile said. He walked over to Remy and grabbed his hand, putting the keys back in them. “There you go. With their rightful owner.”

“Wait...but...I...what?” Remy asked. “I’m not...?”

“Well, you do have to sign a paper or two if you want your name on the property,” Emile allowed. “But after you got passed up for the manager’s position one too many times, and you talked about opening your own shop...it got me thinking.”

Remy’s eyes were welling up with tears and he stared at the keys in his hand. “Emile, you didn’t,” he breathed.

Emile nodded. “I did. This building, and the shop inside, is owned by one Remy Picani.”

Remy put his free hand over his mouth as he started to sob. Emile put up a hand to see if Remy was okay, but he was quickly pounced by Remy kissing him passionately. When Remy broke the kiss apart, he was crying, but grinning. “I don’t even know what I’m going to call it, but I love it already,” Remy said.

“I thought you came up with a name years ago,” Emile said. “I assumed you’d call it  _ Sleep Easy.” _

Remy laughed. “You know what? My coffee  _ is _ so good that it should be illegal.  _ Sleep Easy _ it is.”

Emile beamed. “Now, I will warn you, there is one catch in all of this: I have no idea what you need to make coffee, or pastries, or anything else you would sell. And you’re gonna need to use a lot of your own money that you saved in order to lift this place off the ground. My trust fund got you the property, but your money is going to have to keep it alive.”

“I’ve been saving up here and there for ages, now, Emile. I may not have been able to buy a shop on Main Street but I have enough for advertising and supplies,” Remy said. “It’s enough to start the shop.”

Emile just bounced more. “That’s great! What’s the first thing you’re going to do as a brand-new shop owner?”

Remy grinned. “I think I’m going to thank my wonderful boyfriend a little more for helping to make this happen.”

Emile tittered as Remy leaned in and kissed him again, this time slow, and sweet, and tender. Emile’s hands went to Remy’s hips, pulling him closer and leaning into the kiss. When they broke apart, Remy laughed. “I hate to admit this, but you’re right. This was much better as a surprise. How much work do I need to do to get this place up to code...?”

Emile grinned. “None.”

Remy blinked. Emile grinned wider. “None?” Remy repeated dumbly.

“I made sure everything was up to code before I brought you here. You don’t have to do any work in that regard,” Emile explained.

“You...you...did that?” Remy asked.

“Got approval from the city and everything. This place is ready to be a shop, as soon as you get some people working for you,” Emile said, shoving his hands in his pockets and bouncing on his toes. “I’ve put a lot of work into this, Rem, I told you. All you need is the people and the supplies and you can get this place to take off!”

“Finding people...I can probably get a few from both my jobs, because there are some people there who just hate the managers. Beyond that, I could probably get some college kids, or high schoolers, depending. Put some flyers up, figure out where to get everything I need...yeah, I could definitely do this. I already have a recipe book, after all!”

Emile couldn’t stop bouncing in excitement. “So you’re gonna do it?” he asked.

“Oh, yeah, definitely!” Remy exclaimed. “It’s gonna take me some time to figure out the menu, get all the supplies, and the people, but you’d better believe I’m doing this! I’m gonna talk about it to every person I meet, too! Advertising is important for getting a restaurant off the ground!”

Emile laughed, and Remy was beaming. “I’m so happy you like it!” Emile said.

Remy shook his head. “I  _ love _ it,” he said. “How many of our friends knew about this?”

“Theo, Clara, Xavier, a few others,” Emile said. “Plus anyone who did the woodworking on the tables and chairs.”

“Wait, you hired people to make those  _ specifically _ for the shop?!” Remy asked.

“Oh, yeah!” Emile exclaimed, dragging Remy over to the nearest table. “Specifically made for the shop, freshly stained and sanded, all locally made, too.”

Remy shook his head. “So  _ that’s _ why you were asking me about woodwork last month,” he mused. “Emile, I love you, so,  _ so _ much, but I’m telling you now: there’s no way I can top this. I can’t even try to top this. This is just—it’s too perfect. You found the perfect gift. I can’t thank you enough.”

“Honey, there’s no need to top this,” Emile said. “This isn’t a competition. I got this for you because I knew you could do great things with the opportunity, so I helped you get to the starting line. It’s not as big a thing as you’re making it out to be.”

Remy hugged Emile tight and said, “You know, when you bounced into the room, insisting that I get my jacket on right that instant, I never could have imagined that we would be coming here. But like I said, this is the perfect gift.”

Emile kissed Remy’s cheek. “I’m glad,” Emile said. “Do you want to call some of your friends and let them know?”

Remy took a step back and hummed. “I would, but I have an evening shift at work today, and I already know that if I start calling them, I’m not going to stop in time for work.”

“That’s fair,” Emile said, scratching the back of his neck. “Do we have to get back to the apartment for you to get ready for work?”

Checking his cell phone for the time, Remy sighed. “Soon,” he agreed. “Not quite yet.”

Emile sighed. “Kinda anticlimactic, if you ask me. You get to own your very own shop but at the end of the reveal, you have to get back to work where you usually go.”

Remy laughed. “Honey, trust me, nothing’s going to be the same after this. As I go to work, I’m gonna talk to August and tell her about the shop, and invite her to come work for me. I might talk to some of my other coworkers, too, if the manager doesn’t catch me. Grab as many people as I can who know the work, put up signs around the college campus saying I’m hiring, and opening a little while after that...it may seem like everything is returning to normal, but to me, this changes my entire life.”

“Well, good, I’m glad. That was the idea,” Emile said with a smile.

Remy looked around the shop one more time, eyes wide with wonder, and Emile couldn’t help the swell of affection he felt when he looked at Remy. Seeing him like this, Emile understood why he fell in love with Remy in the first place. The light in his eyes, the confidence in his posture, he could fill an entire room with his presence, and Emile would hang on his every word.

“We should go,” Remy said, voice filled with regret. “But tomorrow? Tomorrow I’m going to go over every inch of this place and make sure that I can lift it off the ground. We might not be open until April or May, just getting everything I need and all the workers, but...it can be done. I’ll have to save a lot in order to pay the workers, and I’ll have to advertise an obscene amount, but I’ll get this place off the ground. I’ll make you proud, Emile, I promise you that.”

“Remy, believe me when I say that you already do that every day,” Emile assured him.


	79. Chapter 79

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for light talk of substance abuse and assault

####  **February 6th, 1987**

Remy woke up from his dream with a start, looking around. He was still in his bedroom, which was a promising sign. He couldn’t go to his parents with a scary dream, seeing as last time his mother sent him back to bed with a growl and a threat, but he wanted to make sure everyone was still alive.

He crept into his parents room, and saw the steady rise and fall of his mom and dad’s chests. He tip-toed across the hallway and peered into Vanessa’s room, confirming she was breathing as well. He slipped into Toby’s room, to find Toby reading a book by flashlight. “Hey,” Toby said softly. “Bad dreams?”

Remy reluctantly nodded. He pointed at the book. “Mom and Dad told you not to stay up all night reading.”

Toby shrugged. “Don’t tell them I did? If you don’t, I won’t tell them anything you say tonight. Want to talk about your dream?”

“A little,” Remy admitted.

Toby patted his bed and Remy climbed up on it, sitting at the foot of the bed as Toby patiently listened to him.

####  **January 5th, 2003**

Remy felt the shift on the bed before he really registered anything else around him. Without thinking, he rolled over and wrapped an arm around Emile in bed, murmuring, “You okay, honey?”

He didn’t get a response, and that’s when he cracked an eye open, to find Emile struggling out from under Remy’s arm, crying. Remy retrieved his arm and pushed himself upright in bed. “Emile? Honey?”

Emile was still crying and whimpering, but his eyes were squeezed shut tight and he didn’t show any signs of being awake. Remy’s hand touched Emile’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze, and Emile bolted upright in bed with a gasp, shaking like a leaf. “Emile? Are you awake?”

Looking over to Remy, Emile paled and Remy blinked once, twice. Remy wasn’t getting any verbal responses, and his worry was only growing. “Emile,” Remy said softly. “Are you okay?” Remy reached a hand out and Emile flinched. Remy retreated like he had been burned. “...I’m gonna give you your space, honey, okay? Whenever you’re ready to talk, come get me.”

And with that, Remy left the room. He went to his old room, which Emile had been helping Remy turn into a mini-office until they could move somewhere bigger and Remy could get “a  _ proper _ office” as Emile had put it.

He laid down on the bed in the corner of the room and stared at the ceiling. Obviously, Emile had a nightmare of some kind. Something involving Remy. Remy wanted to help, but he knew that if Emile had a nightmare with him in it, it might be counterintuitive to force Emile to hang around Remy until he felt better.

Remy was drifting off to sleep, worry about Emile swirling in his head when there was shuffling in the doorway. Remy cracked an eye open to find Emile standing there, pale as a ghost. “Mm?” Remy asked.

Emile opened his mouth, before shutting it again. He looked at the floor, then up at Remy, unshed tears in his eyes. “Promise me that you won’t drink or smoke.”

Remy blinked, uncomprehending for a second before he said, “Honey, I’ve never smoked and I haven’t drank in years, and I promise I would never do either of those things in excess. What brought this on?”

“...Had a bad dream,” Emile said reluctantly. “You got high and...wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“Oh,” Remy said, not really sure what else to say. “And you’re...worried I might do that in real life?”

“No, no. No, I don’t think you’d ever do that in real life, inebriated or otherwise,” Emile said, sitting down on Remy’s bed. “I just worry about what would happen if you  _ did _ get drunk or high, and  _ someone else _ didn’t have your standards of character.”

“Wait...” Remy said, frowning. “You have...a very vivid dream of me...doing that...to  _ you, _ so vivid that you flinch away from me when you first wake up, and you worry about  _ me _ being violated once you’re fully awake? You’re not...mad at me for it?”

“It was a dream, Rem, I’m not going to hold you accountable for a dream,” Emile said. “But...this is a college town. You’ve been to parties, so have I. And...it’s not like we’ve never had close calls.”

“Wait...what?” Remy asked, blood running cold. “We’ve had close calls?”

“Back when you still drank at parties. Like, drank enough to actually get depressed and not remember much. You were getting hit on by a junior back when you were still in college. I had to drag you back to the dorms with the promise of  _ Halloweentown?” _

“She was...she was trying to...?” Remy stammered.

“It looked that way. I thought I told you,” Emile said with a frown.

“Oh, my God. If you did, I forgot about it entirely,” Remy said. “I mean, I know I’m dumb when I’m drunk, but...”

“Hey, this is not a matter of smart or dumb. This could happen to anyone,” Emile said. “And I’m very thankful it didn’t happen to you. But I don’t  _ ever _ want it to happen to you, or have a chance of happening to you, again. So I don’t want you drinking or smoking.”

“...Honestly, that’s such a good reason to stay sober,” Remy said. “Like, if you think I’m not going to drink champagne at our wedding, you’re dead wrong, but I’m not getting drunk off it.”

“And you wouldn’t...”

Remy shook his head.  _ “Mio amore, _ let’s be honest here. I couldn’t afford a cigarette habit, let alone anything heavier. I’m safe, you’re safe, neither of us are going to get into trouble over that sort of thing.”

Emile blew out a breath. “Okay...okay. You’re right. I might have gone a little overboard in the fear department.”

Remy shook his head and leaned up to kiss Emile’s temple. “You had a vivid dream. It happens. And if it will help you sleep better, I’ll keep away from the alcohol except when cooking.”

“Yeah, I think that would help...” Emile took a breath. “I know it doesn’t exactly inconvenience you, but I’m still sorry that you would have to take those extra steps.”

“I’m not,” Remy said. “If it helps you feel better, I’ll do it happily. Besides, it’s probably better to  _ not _ get in the habit of drinking whenever I feel like it anyway.”

“I mean, drinking a little is not a bad thing,” Emile sighed. “I admittedly feel a bit like I’m overreacting. But not enough to tell you to not take those extra steps.”

“And like I said, I don’t mind taking them if it helps you feel at ease,” Remy said, hugging Emile. “What say you to an early morning walk when virtually no one else is awake, just because?”

“Sounds like it would be chilly, I’m not sure...” Emile said.

“Hmm...then what about we make breakfast, together, just to spend some time together?” Remy proposed.

Emile smiled. “I can definitely get behind that.”

Remy grinned. “Excellent! Come on, let’s get to work!”

Dragging a laughing Emile to the kitchen, Remy grabbed the things they needed for a small breakfast. He didn’t want to do anything too huge, just enough to get both of their minds off of Emile’s nightmare. “What do you say to an egg sandwich?” Remy offered.

“Sounds perfect,” Emile said with a little smile.

Remy nodded and started to grease up a pan, while Emile got the bread slices toasting. “You want turkey on it, too?” Remy offered.

“Oh, that sounds great,” Emile said, rubbing his hands together.

Remy grabbed sliced turkey from the refrigerator and tossed it in the pan. As it sizzled and cooked, Remy looked over to Emile, who was staring at the toaster in consternation. “You okay?” he asked.

“Hm? Oh, yeah,” Emile said, shaking his head slightly. “I was just caught in my own thoughts. Dice said he was going to call me soon-ish.”

“Yeah?” Remy asked. Admittedly, he had forgotten that Dice was still looking for Toby. He had been swamped between working on research for  _ Sleep Easy _ and still working at the other shops in the area.

“Yeah. He said that almost all his contacts had gotten back to him, and he would call me if he got something sooner than our arranged meeting, but I haven’t gotten a phone call or an email yet.”

“Ah,” Remy said, feeling a little disappointed. Dice had said they were “eighty percent done” for two months now. He didn’t know how long this whole thing would take, but he didn’t think it should be this long. Remy removed the turkey from the pan and put it on the waiting slices of toast before cracking open eggs. “Are you hopeful about the next meet-up?”

“Honestly? Yeah,” Emile said. “I mean, it’s been months. Something has to give eventually. And I really trust Dice. I don’t know why, but I do. He’s not just half-heartedly searching, I’ve asked him to go more in-depth about his searches with me and he has. He’s really looking, Rem. He’ll find Toby.”

“Yeah,” Remy sighed. “I just wish that it would happen sooner, rather than later.”

Emile offered Remy a small, sad smile. “I know. It’s not easy to wait for anything, but especially something like this.”

“Tell me about it,” Remy griped. “Like, I knew if Dice was any good, he’d take his time, but it’s been literal months and we haven’t gotten any further than ‘eighty percent close’ and it’s...enough to make me want to bang my head against a wall. I’m just...frustrated.”

“Yeah,” Emile said softly.

Remy sighed and ran a hand down his face before dishing up the eggs. “I don’t want to talk about this so in-depth. I don’t need that kind of stress in my life right now. Houses. Do we have an estimate on houses?”

“A couple,” Emile said, nodding. As Remy threw a bit of spices onto the sandwiches he said, “There’s a few townhouses for sale nearby. I say nearby, it’s like a fifteen minute drive. Forty five minute commute to college by car, we’ll have to coordinate a lot more when it comes to who gets the car when.”

“Thanks for the warning,” Remy said, passing a sandwich to Emile. “I think we could make it work, though. And, we wouldn’t have to deal with my mother coming around anymore.”

“True,” Emile said with a little grin. “Should I call the realtors? See if we can get something set up?”

“Definitely,” Remy agreed. “I want to see these townhouses for myself.” Emile grinned and Remy smiled back. “It’s weird being an adult. I thought adults have everything together, always. When in actuality you’re just flying by the seat of your pants with actual lives at stake.”

That earned a snort from Emile, and Remy laughed. “It’s true!” he defended.

“I never said it wasn’t,” Emile said. “That is...painfully accurate.”

Remy sighed and shook his head. “I’m...more stressed than usual recently. I didn’t want to say anything at first, but I think you ought to know. The new shop is amazing, but it adds an extra layer of work to everything I already need to do, and it’s stressful.”

“Should we get a computer?” Emile asked. “So you don’t have to go to the library to do research?”

Remy grimaced. “A computer is a lot of money, Emile.”

“So’s gas money when you have to research stuff at the library for your shop,” Emile said with a shrug. “In the long run, it might be cheaper.”

Remy shook his head. “Not yet,” he said. “Maybe once the shop is doing comfortably.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Emile agreed. “I can’t wait for the day you open it up and there’s a line going out the door.”

Remy laughed. “Come on, Emile. My coffee’s good but it’s not  _ that _ good.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Rem,” Emile warned.

“I don’t think I am, I’m just being honest,” Remy said. “Of course I’ll puff myself up in advertisements, but I know I’m not perfect, and I always have room to learn and improve. My coffee is good, yeah. The blends I make when the managers let me use leftover grounds are unique in a good way. But...this is going to be a lot of work, and there’s going to be a lot of room for self-doubt.”

Emile tutted. “Come on, Rem, you’ll do fine.”

“You say that now,” Remy laughed, somewhat hysterical.

Emile kissed Remy softly, and Remy melted into the kiss, letting all of his stress melt away if only for a brief moment. “I’m sure you’ll do amazing, Rem. This is you. You won’t let your business go under if you have any means of saving it. I doubt you’ll even need saving in the first place. I’ve heard people talking about your shop who I haven’t even talked to about it.  _ All _ our friends are in your corner. You’ve got this.”

Remy smiled softly. “You really think so.”

“I do,” Emile said.

“Then what could possibly go wrong?” Remy asked with a grin. “I’ve got you and our friends on my side, this’ll be great!”


	80. Chapter 80

####  **August 30th, 2002**

Emile set down the last box with a heavy sigh and looked to Faith with a smile. “That’s the last of them,” he assured her.

“Thanks for being willing to help me move, Emile,” Faith said. “I really wish my folks weren’t so far away sometimes, but you and everyone else I’ve made friends with have been a huge help.”

“Hey, no problem!” Emile chirped. “So long as you crush your final two years like you crushed them at your last school, you’ll do fine.”

Faith grinned and crushed Emile in a hug. “Thanks. Now, I think you’d better find Remy, because I believe some of the guys in the dorms were eyeing him earlier...”

Emile groaned and nodded. “Thanks for the tip. Talk soon?”

“You know it!” Faith exclaimed with a grin.

####  **January 26th, 2003**

Emile laughed a little as he moved the last box from the car to the townhouse he and Remy were now proudly paying a mortgage for. He wiped the dirt from his hands and looked around the empty space with a happy grin. Remy was leaning against the wall with a huge smile. “We’ve done it!” Emile exclaimed. “We’ve officially moved into a townhouse!”

“No more mother coming to bother me, no more Grace knocking on our door or subtly hinting that she doesn’t approve of us!” Remy crowed. “Oh, God, we’re gonna have to save up for more furniture than just a couch, the TV stuff, and a card table, but we have a fully furnished master bedroom, an office, and two guestrooms, and that’s good enough for now!”

Emile closed the front door and sighed, looking around. “We should probably unpack our clothes and stuff soon. Before tonight. And get out enough plates and utensils that we can eat.”

“You take care of the clothes and I take care of the kitchen?” Remy offered.

“You just want full range of knowing where everything in the kitchen is without both of us arguing over the sorting systems of pots and pans,” Emile playfully accused.

“Duh,” Remy said, shamelessly grinning.

“Of course, you know if you sort the pans and I sort the clothes, I get to color-sort your shirts,” Emile said innocently.

Remy froze at that declaration and Emile watched the gears whir in his mind, weighing his options. Remy  _ hated _ when Emile tried to sort through his clothes, so this would either make or break the afternoon plans. “You know what? Fine. It’s worth it if I get free reign over the kitchen,” Remy said with a shrug. “And if I don’t like your system I’ll just move all my clothes around at a later date.”

“We both know that’ll never happen, but all right,” Emile laughed, taking the boxes of clothes and heading to the master bedroom.

Emile set the clothes down with a sigh, stretching before pulling out hangers and getting all of his clothes in the closet the way he liked them first. Sweaters and sweater vests on the inside, shirts in the middle, pants towards the edges, and everything sorted by color. He went through Remy’s clothes, after, tutting at the state that they were in. Remy had mostly thrown all his clothes into the box, barely folding anything outside his suit and blouses.

Slowly but surely, Emile sorted through everything and followed the mirror image of what he had done with his clothes for Remy’s. As Emile moved the last of the clothes, it became evident that Remy had used the box for more than just moving the clothes, as there were lumps and bumps that were slowly revealed to be knick-knacks. Emile glanced at the bedroom door. Hopefully Remy wouldn’t mind if Emile looked through them.

Emile saw Bones first, of course, and carefully put him on the bed, making sure nothing had dug into or torn the fur. Next, came a small trophy that Emile recognized as being from when all their friends had gone to the dollar store and gotten each other trophies with various ridiculous stickers on them. Emile kept that in the box, figuring that Remy would want to deal with that on his own. There was a small yet valuable stack of comics, and underneath...

Emile blinked when he pulled out a photo album, the cover done in blue plaid, with stickers on the front, slapped on in the way a child might try and be neat, spelling “BEST BROTHERS” in all capital letters. Emile flipped the cover open and put a hand to his mouth as tears inexplicably formed in his eyes. There, the very first photo, was a picture of a toddler with almost-tamed brown hair and freckles, staring in wonder at a baby with a blue blanket and hat. He flipped the photo over and saw “Toby meeting Remy” in loopy cursive written on the back.

The next photo in the album was the same toddler, sitting on a sofa, staring adoringly at the baby as a woman who looked like Remy’s mother pointing, no doubt showing the toddler how to hold Remy. There were several pictures of the toddler and the infant, one where the toddler was holding a bottle which made Emile grin and coo at the photo. There were a few photos of the two playing, or the toddler and another girl sitting and reading while a baby Remy slept in the corner.

Then came a photo which had Emile outright crying. A baby Remy, with unkempt blonde hair was reaching for a slightly-older-than-toddler Toby, foot raised midstep as Toby held out his arms. The photo directly after that showed Toby hugging a beaming Remy, and Emile knew that had to be Remy’s first steps.

“Emile, come on, sorting clothes can’t take this...” Remy paused midway through his sentence, staring at Emile, who glanced back at him guiltily even as he was still crying. “...Long. Where did you find that?”

“It was at the bottom of your clothes box,” Emile said, offering it back to Remy. “Sorry for prying, I was just curious.”

Remy looked at the photos on the page Emile had been staring at, and he smiled. “Hey, those were my first steps. Toby asked for a hug and I just walked over and gave him one.”

“I thought they must be, to be captured on film,” Emile said softly. “How long have you had this?”

“Toby gave it to me that first Thanksgiving when I went back home, a reminder that we’d always be there for each other,” Remy said softly, flipping through the pages, before turning the book over and flipping to the last photo, where there was a beaming Toby and a reluctantly smiling Remy in his cap and gown. “That was the day I graduated high school,” he said. “Toby insisted on getting a picture where I didn’t look  _ completely _ sullen.”

Emile grinned, marvelling at the picture. “That’s amazing, Rem,” he said.

Remy sniffed a laugh. “Yeah, Toby always insisted I smile for at least one photo for his album. This was his. He had to be about five when he noticed my mom had photo albums in our parents room and he insisted on having one of his own, complete with copies of the photos that featured me and him when I was just a baby.”

“Wow,” Emile said, not really knowing what else to say.

“Yeah. He had one for him and Vanessa, too, but this was ours,” Remy said with a smile. “He was so proud of it, even when he went off to college. He would brag to me about how he would always catch me mid-smile without me realizing, no matter how much I would snarl after I realized he took a photo of me. He loved photography, and graphic design. That’s actually his ideal job. Marketing and graphic design.”

“He went to an art school, I remember you saying,” Emile said. “I was surprised. I would have thought your parents wouldn’t want him to take that sort of risk.”

“Nah, Toby was the golden child, he could do no wrong and he could make anything work so long as he put in the effort,” Remy said, shaking his head. “Once he started showing that he had a knack for art my parents pushed him to continue. You should see his portraits, Emile, they’re works of art.”

“You don’t resent him,” Emile observed.

Remy looked up, confused. “Why would I?”

“You said he was the golden child, and most kids resent when one of their siblings is favored over themselves,” Emile said.

“Nah. Toby made up for the love my parents didn’t give me in spades. They adored him and he adored me.” Remy shook his head again, blinking back tears. “I miss him and his dorky insistence on taking a photo at every big milestone. He would insist on taking a photo the opening day of  _ Sleep Easy, _ when that happens, and he would have probably gotten a picture of today, too, and just...God, he took so many photos, but I do miss it.”

Emile swiped Remy’s tears away with the pad of his thumb. “Hey, remember what Dice said? He has the city. He has the city Toby is in and he’s asking around for a specific address and phone number. We’re  _ so close _ to finding him, Rem. We might even find him before  _ Sleep Easy _ opens and he can take that picture opening day. You two will be together, and get to take so many more photos.”

Remy laughed. “So many photos. I’ll be begging him to stop, and he’ll simply respond with a ‘never.’”

“That’s the spirit!” Emile encouraged. “He’ll take pictures and we’ll cover the walls of this house with them. It will be great.”

“You really mean that?” Remy asked. “You’d really cover the house with photos that Toby took?”

“Yeah, I really would,” Emile said. “Even if he never took a single one of us, which I severely doubt, I would buy his art in a heartbeat to cover the house with. Because it’s a good reminder that he’s there for you even when it doesn’t feel like it.”

Remy smiled softly. “I think there are probably some old home movies of Toby and I running around and playing. We’d go on epic adventures around the house, and Mom hated us climbing on the furniture to do it, but she didn’t stop us until I was about five and old enough to understand that the table probably wouldn’t support my weight if I kept clamoring on it.”

“Did you have a favorite adventure?” Emile asked, electing to ignore the comment on Remy’s mother for the time being.

“Oh, I loved them all, it’s hard to think of just one. I loved being astronauts, pirates, criminals, cowboys, any and everything Toby and I could think up. We’d spend most of, if not the whole day playing in just a single world with one of the scenarios we came up with. That’s what made it so special. Toby would spend hours with me, just playing. There were times he’d spend the day with Vanessa, or Mom, or Dad if Dad was off work. But then he’d spend days with me...and it was like nothing could make me happier. I had his undivided attention, I could talk to him about whatever I wanted. And sure, I could talk to him on days we didn’t do that, and he’d still give me undivided attention. But the fact that he did that on his own, for a whole day, just because he wanted to...it meant the world.”

“I wouldn’t recommend climbing on the furniture when we find him again, but I’ll leave you two be to talk all you want,” Emile said.

“What? No!” Remy exclaimed. “Emile, you don’t understand. You’d be part of that conversation. You’re just as important to me as Toby. I want Toby and you to talk and get to know each other too. When we meet up again, I’m keeping you in on the conversation, too. It’s only fair.”

“And...you wouldn’t mind?” Emile asked, a little shocked. “You always talk about you and Toby together when we go over this sort of thing, and...I don’t want to accuse you of anything, you just...usually don’t include me in the equation.”

“Because I mostly talk about memories and things that have already happened, Emile,” Remy said, not unkindly. “I let you in on those memories so you’re not completely lost when I talk about stuff Toby and I have done. Because we  _ will _ slip into inside jokes and ribbing each other at a moment’s notice. I want you there, Emile, of course I do. I want the two most important people in my life to meet.”

Emile grinned shyly. “Thanks, Rem,” he said softly. “Is there a reason you came up here?”

“I figured we could celebrate our new home by cooking something, making this place smell like home. You in?” Remy asked.

“Absolutely,” Emile said, kissing Remy’s cheek. “I’d love nothing more.”


	81. Chapter 81

####  **July 16th, 1999**

Remy glanced up from the back corner of the library as a girl laughed a little too close to comfort for him. His mom had let him come to the library on the condition that she be there (and monitor what he checked out, but neither of them acknowledged that), but he was allowed as much time as he wanted in the teen section. Which meant he could sneak in some magical-girl-manga-reading.

He checked to make sure his mom wasn’t around and continued to read. He loved this, probably a little too much for his own good, but he didn’t care right now. Right now, he just wanted to make sure the Sailor Scouts would get out of peril safely.

And maybe, one day, he’d find a place where he could rent out the books and not have to pray that no one checked out the one he was reading while he was gone.

####  **February 14th, 2002**

Remy looked over his list again, grumbling. That idea was too sappy, that one was too plain, that one didn’t have the right amount of sentimentality, the other one had  _ too _ much! How hard could it be to find a proposal plan that  _ worked?! _ Seriously, he was going insane figuring this out, and he hadn’t even decided on a ring, yet!

Maybe he should do that first? But no, he wanted the ring to fit the occasion too. Because Emile was a traditions sort-of guy, but Remy wasn’t. And he was pretty sure Emile would kill him if Remy bought Emile a diamond, but that meant the options for rings just grew.

“Decisions, decisions...” Remy grumbled, staring at the paper. He ran a hand through his hair and leaned back in his chair. He had no idea what he was going to do.

An idea struck him over the head in an instant. What if he proposed at  _ Sleep Easy, _ once it was clear that the store was going to be a success? Opening day would also be dramatic, but Remy wanted to be sure that the store would do well, in case in the heat of the moment he made allusions to the success of the store relating to the success of their marriage. Yeah, that could work!

...Gay marriage would have to be legal for them to  _ actually _ get married, but hey, they could probably invite their friends and Emile’s family to a ceremony even if the actual marriage part didn’t happen.

Remy smiled. Yeah, he could find a ring that he’d be willing to show off to the patrons of  _ Sleep Easy _ in a ring box as he proposed to Emile. He could work with that...

He was rooting around in his desk for another piece of paper and a pen to write down more ideas when there was a knock at the office door. Remy turned with a smile to see Emile there. “Hey, stranger,” Remy said. “What’s up?”

“You’ve been in here for at least two hours. It’s Valentine’s Day. I demand attention,” Emile said, offering a playful smile.

“Oh, come on,” Remy said, letting his arms fall off the armrests of the chair. “You can’t even give me a couple hours to scheme something romantic for you before you want me back with you?”

“For me?” Emile said, moving closer.

Remy slammed the papers into his designated drawer of the desk and locked the drawer. “Uh, no, nuh-uh, you are  _ not _ reading what this is about, mister!”

“Oh, I see, so you can get grumpy about me keeping the shop from you for literal  _ months _ but the second  _ I _ try to read something you wrote I’m not allowed to?” Emile teased.

Remy rolled his eyes. “I admitted you were right, that the shop was much better as a surprise. Same thing applies with this. You don’t want to know.”

Emile did an exaggerated pout before he grinned. “So, what’s up? Do you have the time to spare to pay attention to me?”

“Yes, honey, I can spend time with you,” Remy said, rolling his eyes and standing up, leading Emile out of the room. “What are you hoping to rope me into today?”

“Maybe a little...afternoon out?” Emile asked, grinning. “I’m willing to take you to the local comic shops to browse, maybe buy a few things that you’ve been eyeing for a while.”

Remy’s eyes lit up. “Ooh, really?”

“Mhm,” Emile agreed. “And then we could go out to dinner, and maybe afterwards we could head to the park, stargaze a bit, and have a little bit of time to ourselves this Valentine’s.”

“As opposed to every other day when we’re, what, surrounded by children?” Remy asked, amused.

“No, but we have outside worries, and things to focus on that aren’t each other,” Emile said with a shrug. “And I think just focusing on each other for a bit would be nice.”

“You’re right, that would feel good,” Remy agreed, smiling softly. “I’ve been way too caught up in my own head recently and I want to spend some quality time with you.”

“So what say you to going out and having some fun, girl?” Emile asked with a wink.

“I say...sounds perfect,” Remy said, kissing Emile’s cheek and grabbing his jacket.

Emile grinned and Remy let himself be led out to their car and got in the passenger’s seat. Emile got in the driver’s seat and started the car, a smile on his face. Remy frowned when instead of a left out of the neighborhood, Emile took a right. “This isn’t the way to the comics shop,” Remy said.

“Yes it is,” Emile said.

“No, Emile, I’ve driven there a thousand times, we make a left if we want to get there. Right is how we get out of the city,” Remy said.

Emile just grinned and continued to keep driving.

“Emile, I don’t understand you, and I hope you realize that when you realize you’re wrong, I  _ will _ be saying I told you so,” Remy said.

“That’s fine,” Emile said, “Because I’m not wrong.”

Remy rolled his eyes and let Emile drive, arms crossed. He listened to the music on the radio, not really paying attention to anything until he noticed they were in the same city that they went to Pride last year. “Emile, where are we going?”

“I told you, we’re going to the comic book store.”

Remy shook his head. “No, seriously.”

“Seriously,” Emile said, pulling into a parking lot and parking the car. “We’re going to the comic book store.”

Remy blinked and got out of the car, looking at the small building in front of them. It didn’t look run down, but it wasn’t some top-of-the-line huge corporation either. Emile led Remy inside and Remy gaped. Wall to wall to wall and dozens of bookshelves were holding comics, graphic novels, and geekery of all kinds. “What?” he asked barely above a whisper. “What is this place?”

“I got on the subscription list for that comics startup you were interested in,” Emile said. “This is their first store. Obviously, they carry some of the bigger comics, but most of their stuff is local, start-up based, and queer.”

Remy looked around in awe. “Unbelievable,” he breathed. “Un. Believable. And you  _ were _ going to tell me about this?”

“Yeah,” Emile said. “If you weren’t up for going out today I would have told you. But they only opened in January, I figured we should give them a little bit of time to stock everything.”

Remy nodded idly, already drifting towards the shelves upon shelves of comic books. He hesitantly reached for a couple before pulling his hand back and looking at Emile. “Don’t judge me?” he requested.

“Why would I judge you when I literally  _ brought you here _ to geek out?” Emile asked.

“Because people can be arbitrarily mean and weird about my interests for whatever reason they can tangentially tie to it,” Remy said.

“I’m not people,” Emile said. “I’m your boyfriend.”

Remy considered that a moment, before reaching back to the comic and pulling it out. “I’ve been really wanting to read this series for a while.”

Emile looked at the cover, frowning. “What is it?”

“Think... _ Sailor Moon _ crossed with  _ Darkwing Duck,” _ Remy said, a blush creeping up his face as he realized exactly how stupid that must sound.

“Magical girls crossed with a super-powered duck?” Emile asked skeptically.

“More like...magical girls crossed with found family and crime fighting.  _ Darkwing Duck _ was the first thing I thought of that you might recognize.” Remy shrugged. “I know it sounds dumb...”

“You kidding me, Rem? That sounds really cool!” Emile exclaimed. “I didn’t take you to be one for magical girls, though.”

“I...well...I always had this guilty pleasure about it,” Remy admitted. “I always wanted that, in a way. The ability to have that confidence wearing a miniskirt.” He laughed weakly.

Emile didn’t. “I think we all have those,” Emile said. “Rem...”

Remy’s stomach sank. “Oh, I know that tone.”

“You’re really sure you’re not trans?” Emile asked, grimacing.

“I...I don’t...know...” Remy admitted. “I always get clocked as trans, I know this, you know this. I like wearing blouses and one day I want to be brave enough to try a dress or a skirt, go full drag. But I never really...” Tears were coming to his eyes. “I never really felt like a full woman for more than a day or so at a time. And the rest of the time I’m mostly happy being a guy. I don’t...I don’t want to be a woman. Not all the time. I just want to be...me. Whoever that is.”

Emile looked Remy up and down and said, “Okay.”

“Okay?” Remy repeated dumbly.

“Okay. You want to be you? Be you. Whether that’s a man, a woman, that non-binary thing we hear about at Pride, or a genderless blob. We can call each other boyfriends for simplicity’s sake if you want, but I won’t judge if you don’t want to be what everyone expects a man to be,” Emile hugged Remy tight as he continued, “I just want you to be happy, Rem. Forcing yourself to say you’re a guy all the time doesn’t make you happy. So if you just want to be Remy, then you absolutely can just be Remy. Not a guy, not a girl. Just you.”

Remy didn’t realize how much he wanted, or needed, to hear those words until he heard them, and he broke down crying. He clutched Emile’s shoulders, comics all but forgotten as he realized that he was safe here. He had a safety here that he hadn’t ever felt with  _ any _ of his family, including Toby. He was free to be his one hundred percent authentic self, and he couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have that.

When his tears finally dried, he took a step back from Emile, and he was beaming. “Let’s get these comics, I have a feeling that you’ll like them too,” Remy said, picking up the stack.

Emile smiled genuinely at Remy as he moved around the rest of the shelves, continuing to geek out for as long as they were there. Once they had purchased the comics Remy was interested in, they went to dinner at a sit-down restaurant (which Remy still had to remind himself would not break the bank, much as he worried otherwise), and they went to the local park as the sun was setting. The February air was brisk, but Emile laid out a blanket for the two of them to lie down on, and Remy got settled into Emile’s side, just a hair away from lying on top of him. No one would mistake them for simply being friendly like this, but Remy didn’t care.

“Tonight was nice,” Remy sighed. “I really, really loved it.”

“Good, I’m glad,” Emile said with a smile. “You know I love you, Rem.”

“I love you too, Emile,” Remy said back, a smile lacing his words.

“Hey, Rem?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to come to the next monthly meeting with Dice? It’s coming up at the end of the month...”

“That’s okay, Emile, I’m not too worried about it,” Remy said with a hand-wave, eyes never leaving the sky as the first few stars started twinkling. “If something important happens, I trust you to tell me, or at least...y’know, set up a surprise for me. You wouldn’t keep the information to yourself indefinitely.”

“You love Toby too much to let me get away with that, first of all,” Emile laughed. “Second of all, I love you. I want to see you happy. And I know, one-hundred percent, that this will make you happy. It might take some time and catching up and therapy, but this would be good for you, Rem. I don’t want to hold you back from that.”

“I love you too, I hope you know that.”

“Trust me. I know.”


	82. Chapter 82

####  **March 19th, 2003**

Emile blinked at Dice uncomprehendingly, then looked at the number in his hand. “And this is it? You’re sure of it?”

“He wasn’t listed by name in the phone book, but I followed him to his address and this is what it was in the book,” Dice said, tapping the paper. “I found him for you. You’re welcome.”

“How do I get him to answer the phone?” Emile asked, slightly hysterically.

“That, I can’t help you with. I know he saw me a couple times, so I can’t exactly approach him. But if there’s nothing else I can do for you, I do believe my services are done.”

“Yes, thank you, yes,” Emile said, passing over the envelope filled with cash. “Thank you Dice. Truly.”

“It’s been a pleasure doing business with you, Mister Thomas,” Dice said simply, standing and holding out his hand, which Emile shook. “Now go get your boyfriend’s brother over here.”

####  **March 25th, 2003**

Emile tapped his foot impatiently as the phone rang...and rang...and rang. He had called this number twice already and he had still gotten no reply. Just as Emile was about to hang up and call again, the line picked up and a very irritated voice exclaimed, “If you’re a friend of Jamie’s, I don’t know  _ how _ you got this number but I want you to hang up and never call back again, and don’t give this number to her either.”

“Uh, I don’t know who Jamie is, please don’t hang up the phone!” Emile exclaimed in a rush. “Please,  _ please _ tell me that you’re Toby Picani?”

“...Yes,” Toby said, voice on guard. “Who are you?”

Emile owed Dice his life. “Uh, Emile. Emile Thomas. Uh...I don’t know if you remember me, it was Thanksgiving two-thousand when we last talked.”

“...You’re right, I don’t remember you, and you have ten seconds to tell me why I shouldn’t hang up.”

Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God! “Mostly because I’m Remy’s boyfriend?” Emile tried.

The line was silent for so long Emile wasn’t sure that Toby hadn’t hung up on him. Then, a very shocked voice choked out, “...You’re...Remy’s...boyfriend?”

“Yeah,” Emile said, scratching the back of his neck. “And I’ve been searching for you for quite a while.”

There was another pregnant pause. Emile shifted on his feet. “Oh, my God,” Toby breathed. “Oh, my God, I thought I’d never see the day that I’d get contact with Remy again. I thought I’d lost him for good, and now, here you are, Remy’s boyfriend, calling me. Which, speaking of, boyfriend? He finally got the stones to confess his attraction to people?”

“Well, kind of. Our first date he didn’t realize it was a date, but we had been pining after each other for...a month or two at least, so...” Emile laughed. “He said he liked me, but only after the first date.”

Toby laughed too. “Oh, God, that boy is a gay disaster and I love him so much,” he said. “Is he there? Can I talk to him? I really want to talk to him, it’s been too long...Our parents said he had written a letter saying he didn’t want to keep in touch when I realized that Mom had found him. But by the time I realized they had been lying, Remy had moved again and I couldn’t get his address from Mom.”

“My blood is boiling just listening to that manipulative witch’s tactics,” Emile said calmly. “But Remy isn’t home, which is actually why I called now. I was hoping you’d be willing to participate in a little surprise?”

“What sort of surprise?” Toby asked.

“Well, Remy’s been really wound up recently, to the point that one thing goes wrong and he’s about ready to burst into tears. And I suggested that he take some time to destress. A long weekend sort of thing. We have a guest bedroom in our new townhouse. You could use it if you wanted to stay over during that time.”

“Of course! I know how stressed Rem can get. It takes forever to get him worked up, but once he is, it can feel impossible to get him to relax. A long weekend where we can hang out might be just what he needs, though. I have enough paid time-off to come over for up to a week, though I know that you might not want me staying  _ that _ long. Do you two live together...?”

“Yeah. Is that a problem?” Emile asked.

“No, no problem,” Toby quickly assured him. “So long as I...y’know...don’t have to hear about my brother’s sex life I’m good to go. I was just wondering more for the sake of if I’d find you shuffling around in the morning in nothing but your underwear.”

Emile cackled, before clapping a hand over his mouth. “No, that won’t be an issue,” he said. “When can you come over?”

“Well, I’ll need to clear stuff with my bosses and get packed but I can be there...Friday evening?” Toby proposed.

“Sounds good! I’ll make sure that Remy’s working on his finances for the shop  _ at home _ in that case,” Emile said.

“Remy owns a shop?!” Toby asked.

“Oh, yeah! He’s starting his own little niche coffee shop on Main Street. It’s called  _ Sleep Easy. _ If you get the chance, stop for a cup sometime. All the baristas are gonna use Remy’s recipes, and that man is a genius when it comes to coming up with new coffee blends,” Emile gushed.

“Wow, someone who loves Remy that much? I’m super glad you’re a thing,” Toby said. “Nobody I’ve ever known has called Remy a genius before, except maybe me, and I’m not sure if I ever told him that. But he’s super sharp when it comes to culinary stuff, always has been. Like, yeah, he’s good at math too, but his passion usually lies with food someplace.”

“Yeah, it’s amazing to watch him cook, especially considering for a while there I didn’t realize he  _ could _ because he was always eating granola for breakfast and instant ramen for dinner,” Emile laughed.

Toby chuckled. “That sounds like Rem, all right. He doesn’t like putting in the effort often, but when he does...it’s beautiful.”

“I know,” Emile sighed, thoughts travelling to Remy and him cooking together.

Toby cleared his throat. “Anyway, Emile, I’m definitely coming over, you’d better believe that. I can’t thank you enough for tracking me down. I was annoyed when I realized someone was following me, but if it’s because you wanted your boyfriend’s brother to have contact with him, well, I think I can give you a pass.”

Emile laughed. “Thanks, Toby. I’ll see you Friday, we can talk more then? I think Remy’s coming home soon and I don’t want to give away the surprise. I’ll give you another call when Remy’s busy with something to give you our address, sound good?”

“Sounds perfect,” Toby said. “Thank you again, Emile.”

“Of course, I’d do anything for Remy,” Emile said simply.

The front door opened and Remy called, “Honey, I’m home!”

A myriad of curse words flew around Emile’s head as he said in a hushed whisper, “He’s back, I’ll call you soon.”

He hung up the phone as Remy walked into the room, a relieved, slightly dopey smile on Remy’s face. “Hi, honey,” he breathed, kissing Emile and holding him close.

“Hi,” Emile said softly as Remy pulled away. “Long day?”

“You have no idea,” Remy groaned. “I can’t wait to quit my job. I’ve decided I’m putting in my two-weeks notice in April. The store is opening in May. I can’t wait any longer, it’ll drive me mad.”

“A light at the end of the tunnel,” Emile said with a soft smile.

“Exactly,” Remy sighed. “And I got permission for the long weekend off. You have any plans for what to do then? Go to the beach or something?”

“Nah, I was figuring it would probably be a weekend in,” Emile said with a shrug. “And I’m not sure my managers are gonna let me have off anyway, because they’ve been wobbling back and forth on whether or not they need me.”

“God, that sucks,” Remy said. “I wish they’d give you a straight answer.”

“Even a gay answer would do,” Emile said.

Remy snorted. “Yeah, a gay one would work, too.”

Emile hugged Remy for a half-second before turning to get a snack from the pantry to hide the beaming grin that threatened to split his face.

“You got good news from Dice and that meeting last week?” Remy asked. “I know he was trying to get contact info and that you’ve been swamped for the last five days.”

“He got  _ a _ phone number,” Emile said. “From a guy who knows a guy who knows someone in the white pages. No idea what the number is for, but he swears that he’s seen Toby around the town when he went to check in-person. So with any luck it’s his number.”

Remy was practically vibrating. “Can we call it?”

Emile sighed. “I just talked with my parents, Rem, I’m tired and I want a break. How about this weekend?”

“...It’s Tuesday, Emile. You want to wait  _ five days?!” _ Remy asked incredulously.

“It’s more likely he’ll be home,” Emile reasoned, internally begging Remy to not push further. “And besides, if you knew where he lived, you’d drive out there and stay, like, a week, and get fired from your job.”

“I’m quitting anyway!” Remy said, jutting his chin out in challenge.

“Remy, please,” Emile sighed. “We kinda need the money to start your shop, you said you wanted at least another month’s paycheck to work with last month. Just, wait until we have a long weekend.”

Remy scowled. “Emile, I want you to know I still love you, but I kinda hate you right now.”

“I know, I know,” Emile soothed. “But give it a little time. Let yourself relax a little. I know if you call the number and it’s not him you’ll burst into tears tonight.”

“Yeah,” Remy sighed, leaning against the wall. “But I don’t like it.”

“I know you don’t,” Emile agreed. “I just want you to be in the right headspace.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Remy dismissed, grousing.

Emile took a breath as silently as he could. The anger Emile was feeling towards Remy’s mother was threatening to bubble up to the surface, and he didn’t want to give up the surprise by being angry. Remy would know something was wrong and he wouldn’t give up until he knew the full story.

Remy looked at Emile with desperation and pleading and he asked, “Can we at least  _ try _ the number? Can  _ you _ try it and tell me?”

“This weekend,” Emile promised. “I just want to make sure someone’s home.”

“Then let’s call around dinner time!” Remy said, throwing his hands up. “I don’t want to wait for the weekend!”

Emile just shook his head. He would have said something, but Remy’s eyes were growing glassier by the second, and before Emile could open his mouth, Remy dashed out of the room and slammed the door to their bedroom.

Massaging his forehead, Emile groaned. Should he just give the jig up and reveal what was going on? It would probably make Remy happier. Emile went upstairs and knocked on the bedroom door. “Hey, Remy?” he called.

“No!” Remy snapped from inside the bedroom. “I’m not talking to you right now! I’m too angry!”

“Remy, I’m sorry!” Emile exclaimed through the wood. “Come on, please? We can call the number tonight!”

He got no response. Emile tried the door, and finding it unlocked, he found Remy staring at the photo album, crying. Emile sighed. “Remy...”

Remy didn’t respond.

Emile walked over and sat next to Remy, looking at him in earnest. “Remy, please? Talk to me?”

“When I’m not tempted to punch you in the face,” Remy said, voice tight.

Emile grimaced. “I really want to help, Rem. I just don’t want to get your hopes up. I mean, he might not be home, this might not be his number, he might not answer even if he is home because he has a stalker and he might only accept calls he knows are coming.”

“I know,” Remy said. “Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt that you’re not as eager to help as I thought you were.”

Emile felt like a bucket of ice water had been dunked over his head. “Remy, it’s not that I don’t want to help,” he said. “You know...you know when you go to an amusement park, and you get in line for a roller coaster, and it’s really intimidating and you start second-guessing yourself and wanting to delay the inevitable?”

Remy slowly nodded.

“Toby just...isn’t someone we know, Rem. It’s been over two years. He could have changed. And I’m scared of that hurting you.”

“I know you’re worried, but that doesn’t give you the right to block me from calling,” Remy sighed.

“You’re right,” Emile said. “If you want to call, go ahead.”

Remy didn’t respond for a minute. “...I’ll wait for now. This whole conversation proves I’m not ready for it to not be him. Give me a couple days. If you don’t remind me, I might get mad at you, but I won’t kill you.”

Emile felt his heart settle. “I can do that.”

Remy nodded, and kissed Emile’s nose. “Dinner?”

“Please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll try to get the chapter after this one out sooner, thank you all for being so patient while you wait!

**Author's Note:**

> UPDATE: As of 12/27/2019, there is an ask blog on Tumblr you can go to for extra content in the _Danger Gays_ series! It's called [askthefabulouspicanis](askthefabulouspicanis.tumblr.com) and anyone can send in questions to the characters from the series and get answers from them! I hope to see you all there!
> 
> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 
> [LLF Comment Builder](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/post/170952243543/now-presenting-the-llf-comment-builder-beta)
> 
> This author sees and appreciates all comments, but may not reply. If you don't want a reply, leave "whisper" somewhere in your comment and I'll leave it be.


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